Somewhere Far Beyond
by StarKnight2.0
Summary: Ainz wasn't the only one to have logged into Yggdrasil in its final moments. Two brothers from America decided to visit their favorite game one last time but end up in a new world. As the Overlord of Nazarick rises, the brothers try to find their place in this new world, make friends, fight new enemies and soon wonder: Are they truly alone in the New World?
1. The End of the World (As We Know It)

**(a/n: This is my first and probably Overlord fic. This is going mostly off of the anime. If the story progresses, I'll be trying to draw info on other sources as well. We'll see. Hope you like it.)**

* * *

Ch.1: The End of the World (As We Know It)

It was the end of the world and nobody was there to see it, save for two of the virtual world's remaining occupants.

Gareth arrived at the tavern at the appointed hour. The tall, slender bard stopped and looked at the familiar old place for a moment. The building didn't look like much. It looked like your typical fantasy tavern: an aged building of wattle and daub with a thatched roof. The gigantic trees of the forest surrounding the long two-story building made it look like a dollhouse in comparison.

Around back were a pigpen, a collection of sheds and a large stable, into which Gareth led his hippogriff mount. Beside the stall in which he usually left his mount, the bard noticed a large black vampire wolf in the next stall. The enormous creature was gnawing away happily on a bone that looked a lot like a femur.

Gareth smiled. Even though he was sad that the stable was devoid of other familiar mounts, Gareth was glad to see that he could at least count on his brother. The bard decided to head inside.

At the front door, he paused once more, looking about the forest clearing. Memories played out in the deathly silent twilight, causing the blond man's heart to ache. Looking up, the tavern's wooden sign looked aged, then again it always looked old and weathered.

A faded bronze colored ox and its name, _The Bronze Ox_, were painted on the cracked wood. The light of the burnt orange sky and the lone lantern hanging from a hook above the door provided enough illumination for the sign and the tavern to bee seen in the growing shadows.

Gareth sighed and stepped inside.

* * *

The inside of the tavern was as he remembered it.

Scattered about the spacious interior were dozens of round wooden tables, which were all attended by stools and chairs. At the far end of the tavern to Gareth's right was a great stone fireplace, in which a great fire crackled away. Two big, cushy armchairs sat in front of the fire with an animal skin rug lying on the floor between the chairs and the fireplace. A bleached dragon's skull hung over the mantle. Its shadowed eye sockets appeared to be watching him.

They didn't appear to be watching, they _were_ watching.

A hard earned trophy turned into a handy security device, courtesy of one of Gareth's old friends.

His eyes drifted to a corner near the fireplace and saw Neremyn Sartumal, the resident wizard and NPC. The wrinkly old elf looked every part the fantasy wizard one could imagine: flowing white beard, wise and analytical grey eyes and a pointed hat. This wizard was adorned in tattered blue robes that looked in desperate need of repair.

The wizened elf mage reclined peacefully in his chair, eyes closed and wooden tobacco pipe in his mouth. Thin fingers of grey smoke rose from the pipe, slowly forming rings and other shapes in the air above before melting into soft haze. Gareth was glad to see that the old wizard was still around, still sitting at that table, smoking his pipe and waiting to talk the ear off of anyone who just happens to bump into him.

The bard remembered encountering him a long time ago, back when the tavern was part of a quest he and his brother were on. The old guy was pretty helpful, gave some good tips on magic and even helped out in one battle. Although he was kind of annoying at times, Gareth was glad that the old elf came with the tavern when he won it at the end of that arduous quest.

"Evening Neremyn!" he greeted, doffing his feathered cap.

The wrinkly elf looked up, nodded and gave him one of the few pre-programmed greetings he always spouts when prompted, "Salutations Traveler!"

To the bard's left were some stairs that led to the second floor, there awaited some rooms and a sitting area where players could plan or relax without eavesdroppers or bumping into other players. There was a balcony that overlooked the ground floor.

In front of him were the bar and the door that led into various sleeping quarters, storerooms and the kitchen. The long wooden bar was polished to perfection. A long row of stools lined the front, usually occupied.

However, the bar appeared to have one attendee. A familiar figure in all black, with his back to the door, hunched over something.

"I like what you've done with the place," Gareth said aloud "Really…rustic."

"Not really my taste, if I were being honest," his brother said, turning to face him "The owner of this dump is a sucker for the classics. If I were the owner, I would've gutted it or pawned it off on some other nerd." A small silence passed between them. Both of their faces were devoid of emotion or feeling.

In Yggdrasil, the virtual world in which the two were currently in, facial expressions were difficult to animate, so expressions were always a blank mask. The only way to gauge expressions and moods were balloons displaying emoticons, which indicated what players were feeling based on the tone of their voices. Currently, the balloons both read happiness and both of their voices indicated that they were facetious.

Once that moment passed, the two laughed and Gareth joined his brother at the bar.

The tall vampire was sitting hunched over a tankard of dark red liquid, which he recognized as blood.

"Feeling peckish are we?" the bard asked, as a perplexed emoticon appeared over his head.

"You could say that," Kane replied, a smiling emoticon appeared. "It's the end of the world and I thought, 'what the hell?' Live it up a little and all, before the lights go out. Right, oh brother of mine?"

Gareth nodded "Indeed."

Kane, wasn't a big fan of role-play. Even in their early days, the elder sibling would do as he pleased. He dressed and acted how he liked and refused to play along in the fantasy adventures that Gareth and the others tried to create for themselves. However, it seemed that at long last he decided to play along, at the last possible second. That was so like him.

As he pulled up a stool, the angelic faced bard studied his brother's avatar. It looked the same as it did when they last saw each other in Yggdrasil. Dressed in a black tailcoat, a black vest over a white silk shirt and chainmail. With dark trousers and leather boots, the vampiric assassin looked like a dashing highwayman or an enigmatic count.

The attire was rather incomplete, though Gareth spotted the vampire's obsidian colored inverness cape hanging on a peg close by, along with his tricorn hat. Kane's face was handsome, pale like marble. His eyes were hypnotic rubies that glowed in the orange light of the candles scattered around the tavern. His long, silky raven hair was done up in a knot.

While Kane aimed, and succeeded, in adopting the look of a roguish vampire, Gareth went for something less gothic. His features were equally pale and beautiful, though his eyes were sky blue and his hair golden, which spilled down to his shoulders from beneath his feathered cap. The younger sibling wore a red doublet over a silk shirt and chainmail. He wore a green traveling cloak, leggings and boots.

Hanging at his side was his pack, containing everything of value to the bard. His whole attire came complete with a special lute, which was strapped to his back. Gareth was pretty much the archetypal fantasy bard and had lived like one during his time on Yggdrasil: traveling about, going on quests and joining in on some fantastic battles. What an odd pair the two of them made.

Despite their differences, the two stuck together and made the most of this expansive virtual world. Outside, neither of them had much of a family, just each other. Yggdrasil helped them pass the time and provided a lot of laughs. They were there in the early days and now it seemed appropriate that they were there for the end.

An elf girl with an aquiline face and green hair placed a tankard of mead on the bar in front of Gareth. He thanked her, out of habit, and took a swig.

He tasted nothing. Although Yggdrasil was advanced, it wasn't advanced enough to simulate taste, smell or feel. A set of blue numbers popped up in front of him and his magic bar rose a little. It was rather pointless to be drinking virtual beer, especially since there weren't any enemies to fight anymore, but it was a symbolic gesture. One last drink at their old hideout, what better to spend the end of the world?

"So, this is it," Kane observed, after Gareth took his drink. "The big one."

"Yep." The bard replied grimly. "All things end, it's a fact of life."

Kane nodded, gulping down his tankard of blood. Red numbers popped up around him.

"Where are the others?"

Kane lowered his tankard and snorted. "Elsewhere. I sent invites to the usual people and most didn't respond. The ones who did said they had other plans. I know that Mike died a while back and that the twins were dealing with troubles of their own."

Gareth nodded slowly as he listened to his brother, who informed him of their friends and comrades.

"And you'll love this," Kane said, an annoyed emoticon sprang into existence next to his head "But from what Alice told me, most of the guys had their own celebration a week back at the old clubhouse, with _him_." The annoyed emoticon turned angry.

Gareth said nothing, though he felt something sting his heart. Even though it's been a few years, the wound from that episode of their lives was still sore. He didn't blame their friends for wanting to hang out and celebrate Yggdrasil's passing without him. Gareth was persona non grata at the guild. Even though he was a still friend to a few of them, they couldn't be seen with him. It was guild law after all and they didn't want to be seen with the supposed traitor.

"Fantastic" the bard murmured bitterly. A teary faced emoticon joined his angry one.

Deciding to change topics and not spoil their mood, Kane changed topics.

"Forget about those dick bags. How've you been?" he asked, a smiling emoticon popped up beside his impassive face "How's life? Haven't seen you since Christmas."

"Good" Gareth answered, returning a smiling emoticon. "Just got a new job, it's looking pretty good. Pay is much better and I moved into a new place."

"Nice. I'm pretty much the same. I applied for some jobs down in Florida, haven't heard back yet. Hopefully something opens up."

The bard nodded appreciatively, sending a smiling emoticon.

After a few moments of odd silence, Kane sighed heavily. "Damn I'm bored. I'm gonna need to find something new to occupy my time."

Gareth tilted his head "What do you mean?"

Kane sighed "Well, I mean, now that Yggdrasil is going belly up, I'm in need of some new entertainment and I just about gone through all the classics again."

Gareth nodded slowly. While the game wasn't über popular in the States, it still had a huge following. To see it go down was like witnessing the end of an era. What will they do to fill the void now? There were scores of other games to be played. One game that was currently popular was a battle royal arena that pitted players against one another on a spacious map in order to win prizes, real and virtual.

Gareth considered trying it out but decided not to. It wasn't really his thing. The competition on that game was also far more intense than Yggdrasil and Gareth was not eager to endure the horrors of being a new player on a new game, again.

The two could go back and re-watch old episodes of classic American TV shows or dig through the vast wealth of archived pop culture for something that tickled their fancy. Unfortunately, even with a hundred or so years of pop culture at their fingertips, it just wasn't the same.

No, there's just no substitute. Yggdrasil was more than just a game. It was the thing that helped the two brothers reconnect. They hadn't seen each other in a long time and lived on opposite ends of the country. Through Yggdrasil, they were able to bond and enjoy life. Now, the future just seemed bleak and uncertain.

"I don't know what we'll do." Gareth said softly "But I'm sure we'll think of something. Just like we did with everything else, we do it together." He clapped his brother on the back.

The bard heard his brother snort, a laughing emoticon popped up.

"What?" Gareth asked.

"That sounded totally gay" Kane chuckled.

"It did not!"

"It did! If we weren't related, I would've thought that you were coming on to me!"

"Shut up!" The vampire burst out laughing.

* * *

The two brothers spent the rest of the time reminiscing on old times, better times. Kane regaled Gareth with various stories of how he would ambush various players with humanoid characters and clean them out of their gold and valuables.

While it seemed unfair, it bears reminding that Yggdrasil had all sorts of advantages and disadvantages. Players with humanoid characters, like elves and humans, were given a bit of a boost over those with heteromorphic or demihuman characters, like Gareth and Kane. To even the odds, Kane started screwing around with players who chased after him or one of his partners.

At first he got knocked around and lost a bit of gold, but he got tougher and fought smarter and managed to recoup his losses.

Once they started running out of stories, Kane decided to give Gareth a tour of the tavern.

The two were co owners of the place, having won it in a hidden quest a while back. They both know it very well but Gareth had left his brother in charge of the place while he was offline for a while. He had to take care of things in the real world and sort things out in the fallout of the incident with his old guild.

While parties and guilds conquered or rented out buildings to be their own guildhalls, there were some buildings that could be bought or won during a quest. At first they worried that the tavern would be a burden but, over time, the it came to be quite useful. It acted as their secret base and it earned them some gold pieces, though not very much. Many good times were had at the tavern changed.

At first Gareth was worried that Kane had changed it but was soon relieved to find that his fears were unfounded.

The upstairs rooms and the common area were all very much the same. The wine cellar was more crowded than normal. The spacious underground room was filled with barrels and wine racks. At the far end of the cellar were two great metal chests. The two were made of a grey alloy, covered in green intricate scrollwork.

"Specially made" Kane said proudly, kicking one of the metal chests with the toe of his boot. "I put all our old things in them. After the big dust up with Oswald and the others, I snuck back in to our old place and grabbed our items from the vault."

"How much did this cost?" Gareth asked, inspecting the chests closely.

The vampire shrugged "Not much. They would've gone for a lot but I got them for cheap from a buddy of mine." He sighed, "Seems like a waste now."

Up the stairs, the two inspected the kitchens.

A dozen workers currently occupied the kitchen. The cook, a hearty dwarf with a great ginger beard, was currently chopping up meat with a cleaver, barking orders to the other employees, all of who were young and beautiful ladies. They scurried about to carry out those orders. Gareth vaguely recognized half of them and was unsure where the others came from, until Kane told him that the inn automatically gained extra NPC workers when the tavern reached a certain milestone and had earned enough gold.

"It probably could've turned into something massive, like a hotel chain or something" Kane lamented "I mean, if the game was still going and we left them to do their thing. Imagine that, us owning a whole hotel chain! Ma would be proud."

Gareth rolled his eyes.

Kane left the kitchen and Gareth moved to follow him but he paused. Sitting on a stool near the door was a silver haired elf girl, pealing a potato and humming a tune. Of all the NPC's that came with the tavern, he remembered her the most. Lydia was her name and she came with a rather sad backstory. Seeing Lydia sitting there on that stool, peeling potatoes like it was a normal day was strange. Pretty soon she, and all the other NPC's in the kitchen, in all of Yggdrasil, will cease to exist.

The bard turned and hurried after his brother, not wanting to be teased over ogling a fictional girl…again.

* * *

Back in the spacious taproom out front, the two brothers sat in the two armchairs before the crackling fire.

Gareth was strumming away on his lute, playing some sad music. In the upper corner of his vision, the bard saw the game clock continuously counting on. In a few minutes, this wonderful virtual world would be no more and it would be back to the real world again.

Kane had propped his head up on one hand, elbow resting on the armrest. The vampire lazily listened to the music his brother played. Having noticed the time they had left, the elder brother interrupted his sibling.

"Now what?" Kane asked sounding incredibly bored, interrupting the melodious flow from the lute.

"How about one more song?" Gareth suggested "One for the road?"

"Sure, whatever. Make it something cool, not one of those lame fantasy bard spiels with 'thee' and 'thou' and shit."

"I'll try" Gareth chuckled. The bard thought carefully for a moment. This was a special moment and he wanted to make it count. When he finally settled on a song, Gareth began to play.

The sound wasn't particularly sad or happy but rather melancholic. "_Gone, long gone,_" he sang "_Blink and I'll be gone, long gone._"

"Sweet, that's some good shit" he heard Kane murmur. The vampire closed his eyes and hummed along.

As the song continued, memories played out before Gareth's eyes, good and bad. He saw the first time he logged into Yggdrasil, the first time he and Kane reconnected, the first friends he made, his first party and how they grew to be a competent guild.

He saw Alice, the one girl he thought he had a shot with. He shook his head, getting her out of his mind.

"_Why have you left me?_" he sang, sadness crept into his voice "_amongst the tall trees, I know I gave her all I have_…"

Whatever shot he thought he had went up in smoke when Oswald stepped into the picture. The thought of that conniving snake made Gareth's stomach turn but he pushed him from his mind. Maybe this was a good thing. An ending but with a new beginning.

"_And I'm lost without you_." Gareth sang, the clock in the corner of his vision was nearing the reported end "_I'm lost within you, and I'm gone, so gone, long gone._" The bard finished the song with a flourish of his arm, holding it for a moment then lowering his arm.

Gareth looked at his brother, who nodded and a smile emoticon appeared. For a moment, everything seemed to be perfect. It was a nice high note to go out on. The two remained in their seats, waiting as the clock reached the destined end. They closed their eyes and waited.

Darkness and silence seemed to enshroud them. For a moment, both brothers thought that it was finally over.

However, their silent wait was interrupted by what sounded like clapping.

Gareth and Kane opened their eyes and looked. Neremyn, the old elf wizard, was on his feet, clapping. His eyes glistened with tears.

"Fantastic!" the old elf cried, "Well done master Gareth! A stunning performance!"

The two brothers stared at the wizard in shock. Before they could wrap their heads around the wizard standing there and applauding Gareth, more clapping sounded from behind them. Craning their necks, the vampire and the bard saw the various tavern maids standing there, applauding along with the wizard.

At the front of the group was Lydia, who appeared to be shedding tears as well.

The sight shocked Gareth and Kane. Neither of them called for the NPC maids, let alone talked with Neremyn. This shouldn't be happening.

"You're seeing this right?" Kane whispered to Gareth, a worried expression written on his flawless face.

Gareth blinked. His brother's mouth was moving and was expressing worry. That wasn't in the game.

"Uh, dude" the bard said, pointing at his brother's face.

Kane looked at Gareth's face and his eyes widened. "Dude!" he pointed at Gareth's face.

"What's going on in here!" bellowed a deep and gravely voice. The door to the kitchen burst open and the burly dwarf cook stomped into view.

The two brothers were left speechless.

"Master Gareth was playing one of his new songs, Gomrael" Lydia informed the dwarf "It was beautiful!"

"That's it" Kane hissed, snapping out of his daze, moving his fingers through the air in front of him to access the menu "I'm outta-" he froze. "What the?"

"What?" Gareth hissed sideways at his brother "What is it?"

"I can't long out!" Kane breathed.

The bard frowned and tried to access his menu. Nothing. He tried to access chat and every other feature he could think of but got nothing. In fact, it would seem the displays and every other thing that filled his vision whenever he was in a game was gone.

_What the hell is going on here?_ Gareth thought, panic beginning to settle in.

* * *

**(a/n: So, what did you think? Let me know. Don't worry, they'll meet Ainz...eventually. I thought I'd try something different. Expect more music and stuff to happen. The lyrics were to Jupiter's Lament by the Smashing Pumpkins.)**


	2. Start Anew

**(a/n: Here we go, next chapter. Hope you enjoy!)**

* * *

Ch.2: Start Anew

Gareth was at a loss.

Every menu and function he tried had failed. He couldn't call the admins or log out. Was this a bug? Did they change the date of the shut down?

No, that didn't make sense. There would've been something indicating that the date of the shut down had changed. If this was a bug, then it must be one hell of a screw up. The maps, icons and other objects typically in his view are gone.

Kane's face was actually moving and looked way more detailed than before. In fact, everything seemed more detailed.

Gareth looked about the tavern. The lights seemed softer, the skin and hair of the elf maids and the dwarf cook was astonishingly detailed.

Looking at the lute in his hands, the bard could see the wavy grain in the wood and the wear and tear in the strap attached to the instrument. The glossy lacquer on the wood felt smooth and cool to the touch. Touch? Gareth's eyes widened. He could feel, actually _feel_, the lute in his hands. The bard raised his hand and touched his face. It felt as if he was touching his own face in the real world.

"Kane" Gareth said, breathless "I-I can feel…"

The vampire placed his hands on his own face, tugging at his cheeks. His hands slid down to his clothes and he began to rub the fabric between his fingers.

"Holy shit…" Kane said, astonished. "Me too…"

Yggdrasil was advanced but it wasn't nearly this advanced. Not even the most recent games on the market have this level of detail. Not only were there no facial animations, the details on characters and environments weren't this good. The game also didn't have any features that simulated touch or smell, which the brothers knew for a fact.

The elves and the dwarf gave them worried looks.

"Master Gareth, Master Kane?" Lydia said as a worried look formed on her face. "Is there something wrong?"

"N-no, Lydia" Gareth answered quickly. He paused for a moment. His voice sounded different. The bard would have to worry about that later.

"It's just…" Gareth continued, struggling to find the right answer. "I wasn't aware that I had an audience."

"You just surprised us, that's all" Kane chimed in, smiling awkwardly.

"Please forgive us," the silver haired girl apologized, bowing low. "We didn't mean to intrude, but it has been so long since we have heard one of your songs, Master Gareth. We couldn't help but overhear and well…it was-"

"Beautiful." Neremyn finished, dabbing away his tears with a polka dotted handkerchief.

The dwarf chef nodded slowly. "Aye" he said, his voice was at a softer volume now. "I suppose it was. I'm not one for music, unless it involves songs of great battles and legendary heroes. Though…it has been a long time since this place was filled with music of any sort. Been too quiet if you ask me. We feared that those days were long gone. Although Master Kane has been pleasant company, we had hoped for your safe return from your lengthy journey."

_Journey?_ Gareth repeated in his mind.

After a few moments of silence, the dwarf glanced out the window and saw that it was night already.

"It's later than I thought. Strange…" He turned to the assembled servants. "Come on you lot!" he growled, "Enough standing around. Master Gareth and Master Kane will be expecting their dinner. They must be hungry after a long journey. We'll celebrate Master Gareth's return later. Now back to work!"

Lydia and the other servants nodded and scurried off to work. The dwarf bowed and stomped off after the elves.

When they were gone, Gareth turned to the elderly mage.

"Excuse us, Neremyn," he said as politely as possible, trying not to sound panicked. "There are some things I wish to discuss with my brother in private."

"Of course!" Neremyn nodded. He returned to his seat at the corner table and began stuffing more tobacco into his pipe.

Gareth grabbed his brother's arm. "Come brother" the bard said, "Lets take this outside."

"Okay." Kane mumbled, a little distracted by the fact that he could feel his brother grabbing his arm.

The two hurried outside.

* * *

Outside in the calm and quiet night, the bard released his brother.

Kane rubbed his arm, surprised by the sensation and by how powerful his brother's grip was. He's never felt anyone grab his arm that tightly before. If that strength was for real, then Gareth could actually hurt someone, whether he wanted to or not.

"This day just gets weirder and weirder," the vampire murmured under his breath.

"I can't contact the GMs" Gareth said, running a hand through his silky blond hair. "I can't access chat either!"

"Yeah, I noticed!" Kane snapped, "I can't pull anything useful, except the master list of all the NPCs at the tavern and some useless menu listing their stats."

"Shit!"

The two continued to try and find something that will help them log out or at least understand what was going on. But after a several minutes minutes of waving their hands, gesturing, flicking the air and almost shouting commands, the two gave up.

Kane plopped down on the ground with his back against the tavern wall and Gareth began pacing back and forth.

The angelic bard spent almost an hour doing this.

"This can't be happening" The blond bard moaned, after a lengthy silence. "This seriously can't be happening! Why does this all look and feel so real? How did it get like this? Are we dead? Is this a dream or was the life we thought was real the dream all along? Are we even in the game anymore?"

"I say that's a big negatory ghost rider," Kane piped up. He nodded to the landscape behind Gareth.

Gareth turned and only one question rose above the billions that were bouncing around his mind.

"W-what happened to the forest?" the bard asked aloud.

In the pale light of the full moon, the two brothers saw that they were no longer in the Forest of Nur in Helheim, one of realms of Yggdrasil. Gone were the gigantic trees that could easily match a skyscraper in height and circumference. In its place was a sea of ordinary looking, and ordinary sized, trees.

Gareth blinked and rubbed his eyes. The new landscape was still there.

"It's official," the bard said in a soft voice "We're dead and this Hell."

"Stop being such a drama queen." Kane growled, rising to his feet and brushing dirt off his trousers. "We're not six feet under or being roasted over an open fire. We're free and we're still breathing, meaning that we're still alive…I think."

Gareth frowned at his brother. "What do you mean?"

The roguish assassin hesitated for a moment and then answered slowly. "Now I don't want you to panic" he said, raising his hands defensively "but while you were spazzing out, I discovered that I don't have a pulse."

"What?"

"Its true! I think my heart has stopped!"

The blond bard stared at his brother for a long moment, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. The vampire was known for the occasional bad prank or tasteless joke but something like this was just not normal. Seeing the doubt in his brother's eyes, Kane rolled up his sleeve and offered his arm. Gareth placed a finger where his pulse should be. Nothing. He reached up and felt around the assassin's throat, searching for a pulse but got the same result.

The bard's eyes widened. "Holy shit" Gareth breathed. "You're-you're-"

"Dead" Kane said with a sigh "kind of."

"So that means that you're a vampire…like an actual, honest to God vampire."

"I guess?"

"How do you feel?" Gareth asked with a mixture of concern and curiosity on his face.

"Normal," Kane stated blankly. "Feeling a little cold and kinda hungry, actually. I've also discovered that I can see pretty well in the dark."

"Really? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Ha, ha, very funny. One."

The bard grinned and lowered his middle finger.

A cool breeze swept across the faintly illuminated landscape, causing Gareth's cloak to flap and swirl around him.

Kane lifted his head and sniffed. "I can smell some animals nearby" the assassin stated, "I can also hear the heartbeats of everyone in the tavern, but I don't think I can hear yours."

Gareth blinked in surprise. He searched for his own pulse but found nothing. "It would seem that I am no longer human either," the bard declared.

Kane walked a small circle around his brother, looking him up and down. "Ok so if I'm now a legit vampire," the vampire said. "How come you're not glowing? I mean you're an angel and all."

"Probably because of this pendant," Gareth reached up and grabbed the small teardrop of silver dangling from his neck by a thin chain. "I got it back during one of our first raids, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Kane said, scratching his chin. "That was the Blue Lake Manor raid wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

The vampire thought back on that raid. They were still rather young and new to Yggdrasil at the time. It was tough being non-human characters. Constantly ganged up on by shit bag player killers and treated like they had the plague. Fortunately, the two managed to learn the ropes pretty quickly.

The Blue Lake Manor dungeon was a fairly easy dungeon, often raided by noobs during their first few levels. It was perfect practice until they leveled up enough to go out on their own and take on real dungeons. The dungeon helped up their stats and granted players some useful items to help them on their journey. The item drops were random, so no two items were the same and could likely produce a dud, thus forcing players to go back and try again. Fortunately, Kane and Gareth's first run had produced some helpful experience and good items.

Kane got his Thief's Lantern, which got him out of some tough scrapes. Gareth, meanwhile, got the seemingly unremarkable silver pendant called the Tear of Janus. As long as the player wore the pendant, temporary cosmetic changes are made to the player's avatar, disguising its true form. It also masked the wearer from those who could use spells or other magical items to read their opponents stats. Even though Gareth had later attained an ability that allowed him to mask his stats and change his appearance at will, the bard held on to the pendant for nostalgic reasons and to conserve MP.

In retrospect, it was a good item drop.

It wasn't the kind of item that the more impulsive and impatient noobs were looking for. Those guys were always looking for something flashy, something that would beef up their firepower and get them noticed by the big named guilds. It hardly did.

Kane snorted at the memory. At least half of the guys on their raid were like that. Bunch of meatheads and show offs. Though, funny enough, the two brothers ended up befriending one of those meatheads, who went on to earn a serious reputation among a well-respected guild, the Shining Crusade. Kane missed him.

"I wouldn't have gotten very far in Yggdrasil if I'm gliding about and glowing like a celestial firefly," Gareth said, stuffing the pendant back under his shirt "Kept me well under the radar. Might come in handy here if we need to lay low."

"True," Kane nodded.

In his current state, Gareth looked like an extremely attractive human male or an average elf, depending on how one viewed him. His true form might raise some eyebrows here. It certainly did in Yggdrasil.

The vampire and the angel, now feeling calmer and more curious, decided to take stock of their current situation.

They both came to grips with the fact that they were now their in-game avatars. Neither of them minded. They now looked far better than they did in real life. The two soon discovered that looks, seizes and species weren't the only things that were different about them.

Both of their voices sounded remarkably different when they spoke. Gareth's voice was soft and pleasant, like fine wine, befitting a medieval fantasy bard. Kane's, on the other hand, was rough yet regal, a voice befitting a vampiric count or a dashing rogue.

The two tried out their new voices by spouting off random lines from old action films for a few minutes.

It was during this time that the vampire discovered that he could use one of his class abilities from Yggdrasil. Being an assassin, Kane had an ability called Mimicry. Essentially, this ability allowed an assassin to imitate certain characteristics of another person, including sounds and the voices, flawlessly. Kane tried out a few familiar voices and ended up spending a considerable amount of time using Lydia's to make lewd comments. This provided some amusement for the vampire, seeing Gareth turn red like a tomato.

They also began to experiment with their abilities and strength. Since the two of them are no longer human, it would stand to reason that they're both far stronger than they previously were. Gareth and Kane tried throwing rocks. The vampire buried his deep in the trunk of a nearby tree, after it tore through the trunk of another tree. The bard got the same result.

Since Kane accessed one of his Yggdrasil abilities, Gareth tried to access his.

As his brother experimented on his own abilities, Kane continued to test out his other abilities. One of his primary abilities was speed, so he decided to try running a short distance through the forest, away from the tavern, and run back while timing himself. He took a deep breath and took off.

The world around him raced by in a blur, wind roared in his ears. Kane laughed a little. He was definitely faster than the average human. He remembered having another ability that gave him a speed boost. The vampire concentrated on that ability and what he could do with it.

Suddenly, the soft sounds of the night slowed and Kane felt a surge of energy and strength. The vampire raced past trees and through bushes, all of which seemed to be standing perfectly still in the gentle evening breeze. He even passed a bug in mid flight, its tiny silvery wings moved sluggishly.

Kane quickly attempted to stop. He dug in his heels and skidded to a halt, but not before digging long ruts through the grassy hill with his heels.

The vampire breathed heavily, feeling more energized and ready to go again. He looked back and saw the tavern perched on the top of a hill, glowing like a little firefly in the darkness.

"A little too far" Kane murmured to himself. The vampire had speed and strength, which will take some getting used to. But Kane was confident that he can, with time.

For now, if he needed to fight his way out of something, the rogue could easily do so.

In a matter of seconds, the vampire was back up the hill.

"You get anything?" Kane asked, reappeared beside his brother.

"Not yet" Gareth grunted, a scowl etched on his flawless face.

"Try picturing the spells in your mind," the vampire offered as he brushed away some leaves that clung to his clothes when he raced through bushes in the forest. "Imagine the icons from the game and the spells effect, then focus on them."

The bard gave his brother a look and attempted to implement his advice.

Eager to try out his other abilities, Kane tried jumping. The vampire crouched down and jumped as high as he could.

To put it mildly, both brothers were startled when the vampire shot high into the air, much higher than the tavern.

In the air high above the tavern and Gareth, Kane accessed another ability, Glide, to hold him in the air. He floated high above and, taking advantage of the opportunity, surveyed the area around him. Behind the tavern, the assassin discovered that the pigpen was still there, as were the sheds and the stable. Behind the pigs and the collection of wooden structures, was more forest. The forest stretched on for what seemed like miles all around the tavern.

The dark ocean of trees and other plant life ran on before ending at the foot of a distant and imposing range of snowcapped mountains.

Kane turned his gaze towards the landscape in front of the tavern. Beyond the forest, he could make out rolling green hills, dotted by copses of trees and sparse shrubbery. Snaking its way across the landscape was a winding dirt road. It ran right around the forest and vanished into the distance.

_A road?_ Kane thought to himself.

If there's a road, then that means there has to be people. The thought of them not being completely alone in this new landscape made him feel excited and a little nervous. Would they be friendly? Would they even be human? Questions began to form in the vampire's mind but they were slowly overwhelmed by the view that the vampire had.

The landscape spread out beneath him was lush and peaceful. It looked like something out of a nature documentary. Almost untouched, pristine.

The vampire never got this kind of view back home.

Stuck inside at a nine-to-five job with no windows, that would take a toll on anyone's spirit. Then Kane got at least got his walking papers. While it freed up his time and made him feel more alive, he still had to hunt for a job in order to pay his ever-increasing stack of bills.

But now, being so high up, those troubles and all his current worries seem to melt away.

It was then that a thought struck Kane. It was all gone. Not just Yggdrasil, but their former lives. Sure, it was a terrifying thought to be in a totally new environment, a whole new world even. However, the vampire realized that they had everything that a person could ever want or ask for.

They had a chance to start over. They had their own place of business and their own land. They had a wide and clear horizon of infinite possibilities.

Best of all: they had powers.

The two brothers were in their Yggdrasil avatars and already displayed superhuman abilities that seemed to coincide with what their avatars were capable of. With their good looks and their astounding abilities, this new life can be sweet. A flood of new feelings began to fill the vampire.

He always wanted to go out and explore nature, but he couldn't before. Never really had the time or the guts to.

Now, the vampire wanted to explore and see all that this world had to offer. Kane looked up and saw the stars, scattered above in the darkness like jewels. They sat there, gleaming, as if they had been polished and put on display for all to admire and admire them he did.

Normally, the experience of being so high up without any safety precautions would make Kane queasy. But he wasn't.

Instead, the vampire felt…exhilarated, free even. He felt as though he could do anything, like he was invincible. After he spent some time admiring the world around him, Kane wanted to get down. At the thought of returning to earth, the vampire began to fall. Even as the ground came hurtling back at him like a speeding truck, Kane felt a sense of excitement, though it quickly turned into concern. He didn't consider how he was going to land.

The vampire's speedy return to earth suddenly slowed. His body suddenly felt light as a feather and he began to slowly float back to the ground. He blinked in surprise when he looked and saw that his brother's hand was covered in a glowing light blue aura.

The moment the vampire touched ground, the glowing aura around his brother's hand vanished.

"Whoa…" was all the bard could say.

Staring at each other, the two brothers slowly came to grips with what had happened. After a few minutes of silence, Gareth spoke.

"I can do magic" he said.

"Yeah, no kidding" Kane laughed. "Shit, that was awesome! You took my advice?"

"Yeah. I concentrated on the various spells that I was able to do in Yggdrasil and I could see them all clearly in my mind. When I saw you falling, I did what you said: I imagined a spell, the Feather spell in this case, and I just…did it."

Kane grinned and clapped his brother on the back, which caused him to stumble a little.

"My little man is growing up so fast!" he cooed.

Gareth readjusted his cap and brushed aside some of his golden locks.

"Excuse me, Master Gareth? Master Kane?" a soft voice piped up.

The two brothers turned and saw one of the maids, an auburn haired girl, poked her head out the door.

"Yes?" Gareth said, standing a little straighter and taller.

"D-dinner is ready, sirs" the girl squeaked.

"Thank you, we'll only be a moment." The maid bowed her head and retreated inside.

Although the bard and the vampire wanted to continue experimenting and testing their abilities, they decided to go inside. Both felt hungry and were eager to try out the dinner after they both caught a whiff of meat and warm bread coming from inside.

* * *

Kane and Gareth sat at one of the round tables, watching silently as the servants brought out their dinner.

The elves had laid out a crimson tablecloth and a candelabrum on the table in an attempt to create a more refined atmosphere. Neremyn had pulled up a chair at their table and began talking about a story he was reminded of. The two ignored him, for the tales the old elf spun were as old as dirt and they couldn't bear listening to a repeat.

The vampire's ruby eyes followed the elf maids as they set a plate of raw meat and refilled his cup with blood.

Gareth cradled his lute in his arms and pensively plucking its strings as Lydia set a bowl of meat and vegetable stew down in front of him.

The dwarf cook, whom the bard remembered was called Osric, stood close by and was observing the whole process. Once everything was set out and arranged, the maids withdrew and stood close by in case they were needed.

Gareth helped himself to a spoonful of beef stew and carrots. Before he took a bite, the angelic bard noticed how awfully quite it was. Neremyn appeared to have stopped talking and was watching him intently.

In the corner of his vision, Gareth noticing that Osric, Lydia and the others looked particularly nervous.

The bard placed the food in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. He smiled with approval.

A great sense of relief seemed to wash over them all. Neremyn reclined in his chair and seemed more relaxed.

Kane went next. He studied the hunk of uncooked meat for a second then tore off chunk with his bare hands. The vampire chewed a few times and took a sip of his cup of blood. His pale expression brightened.

"Delicious," he purred. He tried to play the part of a refined and elegant vampire, though it seemed like he was pouring it on a little too thick. "My compliments to the chef" he raised his cup in honor of Osric.

The dwarf blushed a little. "Ah, well, it's-its nothing sir" he stammered, scratching the back of his head. "Just doing my job."

The two continued to eat. Kane wolfed down his dinner and guzzled down his drink a little quicker than usual. The two of them would have to look more into the vampire's feeding habits, in case it became a problem. The bard, meanwhile, took his time with his meal.

As he fed himself another helping of meat and carrots, a thought occurred to Gareth.

What about home? Would anyone miss them there? Is there a possibility of going home?

Home life for both of the brothers was grey and unremarkable. It was the same routine over and over: eat, sleep, work with a little leisure time left over, which was mostly spent online. Yggdrasil gave their lives some color and excitement. It was a video game, sure, but it brought them many happy memories and allowed the two siblings to bond. Both of them didn't have families of their own and any relatives they knew of have long since passed.

The only people they had in their lives were the friends and acquaintances that they made through the games they played.

The more Gareth thought about it, the more he found the idea of going home unappealing. He and his brother could actually hang out in person now. They could actually do something worthwhile with their lives. This could be the beginning of an interesting new adventure.

Besides, who would want to go back to such a boring life?

Gareth helped himself to a slice of warm bread. As he lathered it in butter and orange marmalade, his eyes locked with his brother's. Just by looking at his sibling, the bard could feel a sense of contentment coming from him. He glanced over to each of the elf maids and could tell what each of them were feeling, even if their faces were devoid of emotion. Gareth remembered that angels and bards, to an extent, could sense the intent and mood of an individual or a crowd.

In Yggdrasil, it merely read one's alignment, their karma. Here, it would seem that he literally could sense what people were feeling and what their intent was. Looking back at his brother, Gareth still felt a strong sense of contentment and intention to do nothing. It would seem that the vampire came to the same conclusion as he did. He smiled and took a bite of his bread.

* * *

Dinner went by rather quickly and the dishes were cleared away from the table.

Gareth plucked away on his lute and Kane was wiping some grease from his mouth with a napkin.

Osric and the elves were about to return to the kitchen to clean and prepare for the morning but Lydia remained standing near Gareth.

"Pardon me, Master Gareth," the silver haired elf piped up, nervous. "I-I was wondering, if-if you don't mind…could you tell us where you have been all these years?"

"Lydia," Osric growled, but the bard held up a hand.

"Where I've been?" he asked, looking up at the girl.

The silver haired maid nodded.

His eyes roved and he saw that the others seemed to be listening in, waiting for a reply. Even Osric and Neremyn seemed to be waiting for an answer.

He glanced at his brother.

The black cladded vampire sat there silently tracing the rim of his cup with a finger. His ruby eyes gave him a look that seemed to say, "_Go on, say something._"

The bard carefully considered his words. He didn't know what they were expecting but from the few clues he got from their conversations, it would seem that the NPCs were aware of them and their actions when they were in Yggdrasil. That opened up a bunch of new questions and thoughts but Gareth focused on the present. He collected his thoughts and after a few silent moments, the tavern was quiet save for the fire crackling away in the fireplace, he gave an answer.

"I went away," he said, finally. Gareth could feel his brother roll his eyes at him but Lydia and the others didn't notice. They appeared to be even more anxious.

"Where?"

"To far off and distant places. To new lands and realms in search of songs and stories."

It wasn't the truth but it wasn't necessarily a lie either. Gareth had left Yggdrasil behind for quite sometime. He wanted to get back much sooner but he got busy with work. In the meantime, he also spent a lot of time trying to mend his wounded feelings through books, music and old movies. All of this was after his old guild had betrayed him.

"Truly?" the girl asked, eyes wide with awe and wonder.

Gareth grinned "Of course! I'm a bard after all! Bard's seek out songs and stories wherever we go! We wonder lonely as the clouds in the sky, going wherever the wind may take us. No matter where we are, we're always searching and we share what we find with all those who wish to hear."

"O-of course!" Lydia blushed. "I-its just that you were gone a long time. We feared that you would never return. W-we missed you."

"And I missed you" Gareth said sincerely. He looked to Osric and then to the other maids, then to Neremyn and finally to Kane. He truly did. The tavern and his brother were never far from his mind when Gareth went away. Now they're all together again, though not in a way he expected.

"I missed all of you," the bard said, his eyes welling up a little "I've meant to come back sooner but…the road was long and rather arduous."

Lydia smiled and the elves chattered words of agreement and affection. Osric bowed his head.

"You honor us, Master Gareth," he said "Truly. We're glad that your home."

"Yes…home." The bard looked to his brother then to the assembled NPCs. "I'm afraid that we're not exactly home, anymore."

"What do you mean?" Osric asked.

"It would appear that we've been moved to another land," Kane answered for his brother.

The dwarf frowned and went to the window, as did Lydia, Neremyn and some of the other NPCs. The servants gasped in shock and questions began to fill the once tranquil tavern with worried questions.

"How curious," Neremyn said, stroking his beard.

"How could this have happened?" Lydia asked aloud, looking to Neremyn and then to Gareth and Kane.

"We're not sure exactly," Kane answered "But what we do know is that we're no longer in Helheim or any of the realms of Yggdrasil."

"What do we do?" asked one of the other maids, panic evident in her voice.

"We hold together" Gareth said firmly, rising to his feet, "and we prepare. For now it may seem peaceful, but this world may contain many unseen dangers. But fret not! Whatever this world has to throw at us, we can endure it."

The various servants murmured with worry and excitement but were silenced by Osric. He placed a clenched fist over his chest and bowed his head to Gareth and Kane.

"We will follow your lead, masters," he promised solemnly. "We will even follow you into death, if need be. After all, you are two are Supreme Beings and we owe you everything."

Neremyn, Lydia and the other elves all bowed as well.

The vampire and the angel shared a look. _Supreme Beings?_ They mouthed to each other. They'll have to look into that later. But for now, there was much to do. They didn't know whether there was a threat coming or not. Regardless of that, the two brothers had to prepare the tavern and all its inhabitants for a worst-case scenario.

Kane began discussing possible ways of beefing up the tavern's security with maids, Osric and Neremyn.

As the discussion continued, with everyone contributing suggestions and ideas, Gareth became lost in thought.

The bard was reminded of some old movies and books about people ending up in other lands. These people had to use their wits and their abilities to survive against all sorts of dangers. Some of them even used their astonishing abilities to conquer the worlds in which they were transported. A new thought suddenly occurred to Gareth.

If they were transported to this new world from Yggdrasil, could there possibly be other players who got dragged into this world as well?

Over the years, Yggdrasil had lost a lot of players. However, Gareth knew that there have been a stubborn few who remained behind, loyal to the end. There probably would've been others who logged in to Yggdrasil one last time, much like the bard and the assassin.

If there had been any other players present during the shut down, where did they end up and, most importantly, are they friend or foe?

* * *

As Gareth considered this idea, a similar question currently lingered in the mind of another player who just so happened to be faced with a similar situation as the two brothers at that very moment.

Far to the south and a little to the west, in the vast grasslands that was sandwiched between the borders of the Kingdom of Re-Estize and the Baharuth Empire, a player going by the name Momonga floated high above this new world.

Clad in night black armor, the elder lich had hoped to sneak out of his guild base, the Great Tomb of Nazarick, undetected and investigate their new surroundings in peace.

That endeavor failed. One of the floor guardians, the demon Demiurge, insisted that he'd escort his lord and had accompanied him to the surface.

Once they reached the outside, the two flew high into the air to get a better look at this unfamiliar world.

Far beneath Momonga and Demiurge, the unfamiliar, unpopulated territory spread out beneath them, stretching out as far as the eye can see.

As he gazed down at this unexplored world, Momonga pondered the possibility of any other players, specifically his friends, winding up in this strange new world.

If they did end up here, they could be just about anywhere in this world, completely lost and unaware that he was there too.

It was then that two things happened.

The first thing was the misunderstanding of one of Momonga's comments by Demiurge. While admiring the beauty of this new world, with its tranquil scenery illuminated by the pale light of the full moon and the jewel like stars adorning the sky, Momonga had made a passing joke about conquering the world.

To the elder lich, it was just minor passing comment, a joke that he forgot as soon as the words had left his mouth. But to Demiurge, it was a stunning revelation of his lord's intent, which was quickly seared into his mind.

He immediately began to draw up plans in his mind on how he could carry out what he perceived to be his lord's wish.

The second thing was that Momonga swore to himself that he would make the name of Ainz Ooal Gown known all throughout this world. This plan of action was so that he could tell his friends, and any other player from Yggdrasil who may have ended up here, that they're not alone.

Unbeknownst to Momonga, the name of Ainz Ooal Gown would become notorious and widespread in the coming days.

However the soon to be new name of the overlord of the Great Tomb of Nazarick would also be joined by the likes of Gareth the Bard, Kane the Vampire and several others who have found their way to this world.

The names of these individuals would quickly become modern legends to all who dwelt in this nameless new world.

Some of these names would bring hope, and others would bring despair.

Ultimately, these figures would change the course of history and the world at large.

* * *

**(a/n: Well, what do you think? Sorry for the wait, but I'm trying to take my time with these chapters to ensure quality. I'm also going to be pretty busy, with other stories and things in my daily life but I'll still be updating. They'll just be a little slow. **

**For Kane, Gareth and other OC characters, some of their powers will be drawn from D&D and other fantasy games and MMOs, since Yggdrasil has some classes similar to D&D classes but is scant on the details. **

**Anyway, I h****oped you liked it and I'll see you next time.)**


	3. A Feast of Friends

**(a/n: This took a little longer than expected. I also changed the summary too, hopefully it sounds better. I hope you enjoy it!)**

* * *

Ch. 3: A Feast of Friends

Ian Als Heim, commander of the First Division of the Sunlight Scripture, wasn't sure what to make of this assignment.

At first, the middle-aged priest was rather glad at the chance to kill his boredom.

Barely over a week ago, he was back at the capital and going through the monotonous routine he had been following for the past several months. Now, he was leading a contingent of knights and mages to some backwater village near the edge of civilization. He sighed. His shoulders slumped and his eyes grew heavy from the long day's journey.

Ian could've easily fallen asleep, if it weren't for the lingering feeling of dread hanging over him and the commanding voice Cardinal Lauransan echoing in his mind, reminding him to remain ever vigilant.

The silver haired priest rubbed his eyes and refocused on the road ahead.

The road, if it could be called that, was nothing more than a dirt path stretching onward through the woods, carrying Ian and his men onward toward their assignment. Through the canopy of branches above, the sky slowly adopted a deep shade of orange as the sun began its descent before them in the west. The heat of the day slowly diminished with the light, making the journey a little more pleasant.

Ian glanced sideways at his second in command, Einon Zekan.

"How much further?" he asked, trying to keep his frustration and weariness out of his voice.

"Not much" the younger man, reaching into his saddlebag and pulling out the map. He scanned the map for a few moments then looked over at his superior. "It should be just beyond the trees up ahead."

Ian nodded slowly and hoped that they could at least rest once they reach the village.

The silver haired priest thought back to how he ended up in the middle of nowhere.

* * *

For months Ian Als Heim had been sorting through a mountain of paper work and overseeing the training of the Scripture's new initiates in the capital.

It wasn't a bad assignment. He'd certainly pick a boring desk job and a few months of headache inducing training, as opposed to raiding demi-human villages or dealing with the Elves in the south.

It certainly beats the assignment his comrades had recently been given.

The silver haired cleric shivered.

Currently, Nigun, the Captain of all the Sunlight Scripture, was leading a significant portion of their order on a top-secret mission: hunting and killing Gazef Stronoff. A rather ambitious plot with some lofty goals, it even bordered on suicidal. Not only were they aiming to snuff out the life of one of the strongest warriors of the modern era, but also laying the blame at the feet of the Baharuth Empire.

Such a plan was risky and could go very wrong very quickly. Only a reckless idiot or an ambitious idiot could've come up with that idea, but Ian didn't dare say that out loud. It wasn't for men like him to question. His was only to accept and obey the orders of the Supreme Council and Cardinal Raymond Zarg Lauransan, the man in charge of all the Six Scriptures.

While many of their number were eager to carry out their orders and strike a devastating blow against the corrupt Re-Estize Kingdom, Ian wasn't as eager.

The Chief Warrior of the Re-Estize Kingdom was no easy prey. He was noble, brave to a fault, and very strong. He certainly proved himself at the Royal Tournament against Brain Unglaus and again, multiple times, in subsequent battles.

When he learned that he was to stay behind and carry on as had been doing, Ian was somewhat relieved and a little disappointed.

On one hand, he wasn't all too pleased on being stuck behind a desk and minding a bunch of novice magic casters. On the one hand, he was happy to avoid the possibility of dying at the hands of Gazef Stronoff. Another reason that he was glad to be left behind was that Captain Nigun was the one leading this dangerous mission.

The silver haired priest respected the man's strength and his cunning, but not much else. Out of all the eager members of the Sunlight Scripture carrying out this secretive operation, Nigun was the most eager.

Ian remembered the day they left rather clearly. After a private meeting with Cardinal Lauransan in the Cathedral of the Six Great Gods, the blond captain showed up in the barracks where Ian had been packing his belongings for the mission.

The captain of the Sunlight Scripture was standing taller and carried himself with an air of great importance, more so than usual.

"Don't bother packing" the blond captain said with a sneer. He then informed his silver haired subordinate of his duties.

Ian nodded, accepting it without complaint. Before he left the barracks to say goodbye to Zeke, who was part of those assigned to the secret operation, the silver haired priest noted a glint in the Captain's eye. It made his skin crawl.

The middle-aged priest shook his head.

Nigun was a fairly competent leader, though he did tend to go overboard at times. Ian was confident that they'd make it back alive and, mostly, intact. Whether they'll succeed, he didn't know. Something didn't sit right in his gut. The silver haired priest couldn't shake this feeling that something terrible was going to happen to them and that he was lucky to have been left behind.

Ian prayed to the gods for luck, for the Captain and for those under his command. He then offered a small prayer for himself. His own mission was rather peculiar and the more he thought about it, the more the silver haired priest didn't like it.

It had only been a few days since Nigun and the rest of the Sunlight Scripture departed when Cardinal Lauransan called upon the middle-aged priest.

Ian was watching the new priests practice their magic casting in the training yard when the Cardinal's secretary showed up and told him that he was needed. In the Supreme Council's chambers, Cardinal Lauransan waited for him. Though they were almost close in age, the high-ranking cleric was Ian's superior in rank and skill.

The cardinal sat at the great round table where six of the most powerful men in the Theocracy, the Six Cardinals, would often meet. He was studying a heavy and ancient tome when Ian walked in.

Ian was rather surprised by Cardinal Lauransan's request to meet. He'd only met the senior ranked cleric once and it was during the formal ceremony inducting all new priests and mages into their respective orders. It was a rather brief encounter where they shook hands and spoke about sundry things and went their ways.

No, this wasn't a social call. There was something going on. A horrible thought crossed his mind. Did it have something to do with Nigun and the others? Did they fail? Were they all killed in battle? Before he could spend any further time worrying about why the cardinal called him in, Lauransan looked up from his book and noticed Ian entering the spacious council chamber.

The keen eyed cardinal looked just as he did when they first met.

Lauransan, the supreme head of all the Six Scriptures, was almost Ian's age but the way he carried himself said otherwise. Always wearing smile on his face, the cardinal went about his daily duties with a kind of energy that younger men envied and cared passionately about those serving under him. However, beneath his charitable and cherry exterior, Ian knew, as did everyone else in the six Scriptures knew, that Lauransan was not one to be trifled with.

His time in the Black Scripture, one of the most dangerous and powerful groups in the Theocracy, gave him a dangerous and mysterious aura that kept everyone on their toes. Whispers of his exploits in the Black Scripture still float about the barracks, usually meant to scare the fresh recruits and keep them in line. Some would accept them as truth while others laugh them off as fables. But they weren't fables, at least not all of them.

Angering the Cardinal of Earth can be detrimental to a man's health and underestimating him is a quick way to the grave.

The senior ranked cleric welcomed Ian with a friendly smile and closed the book he was reading. The cardinal rose and shook the lower ranked priest's hand, inquiring after the new trainees. After a brief update on the progress of the recruits, Lauransan got down to business.

He had received word from one of the fortresses on the northwestern border. Apparently one of their patrols spotted a peculiar structure near one of the more distant villages, a structure that they were certain wasn't there before. The fort's dispatched a contingent of men to investigate. When they failed to report in, the garrison commander and a group of handpicked men, comprised of some of their best, went to investigate the structure and the disappeared men, but none have returned as of late.

The second in command at the fort would've also gone, but he felt compelled to stay and await further orders.

Ian felt the hairs on his neck stand, immediately knowing where this was going but kept silent.

It was then that he received his mission. The silver haired priest was to lead the few remaining members of the Sunlight Scripture they had to the northwest border. They were to join up with the garrison's second in command, Einon Zekan and his knights and investigate this strange structure, which appears to be sitting just within their borders near a village called Frith.

The reasoning for this was that this structure could be the work of demi-humans from the Abelion Hills. Obviously, the Theocracy cannot let this thing abide.

Ian understood and accepted his mission, feeling glad for a change of scene.

However, it didn't take long for his mood to turn sour and his nerves to worsen as he neared his destination.

The Abelion Hills was a vast stretch of wild untamed forests and hills, ranging from the Theocracy's northwestern border, all the way to the Roble Holy Kingdom to the west and up to the mountains that protects the Re-Estize Kingdom's southern border. It is a lawless and uncivilized place, populated by violent and dangerous demi-human tribes. The Slane Theocracy always had a strict anti demi-human policy, though in regards to the untamed region to the northwest, they were content to leave them be.

In the past, the Theocracy had attempted to bring order to the chaotic the region. Not only was it prudent to quash a potentially dangerous neighbor but also recapturing the dominion once belonging to the hill dwarves could yield untold benefits.

Unfortunately, the demi-humans proved to be far more tenacious and ferocious than anticipated. Each attempt at conquest and purging of the demi-humans failed miserably. Their efforts did little more than thin out the population by a small margin, which was quickly replenished in time.

The adventurer guilds of Re-Estize tried their hand at clearing the area. Unfortunately, they had an even worse time than the Theocracy did. Both the adventurer guilds and the Theocracy had long since given up on the wilds and any hopes of reclaiming the fallen kingdom of the hill dwarves. Since then, Abelion Hills has been nothing more than a bloody and lawless frontier where numerous demi-human tribes vie for control, over the region and their rivals.

Occasionally, the Cardinals would send a force in to the wilds to gather information and strike down any possible threats to the country that may have cropped up.

The Roble Holy Kingdom erected a mighty border wall, which has kept the demi-humans out, though Ian doubted that would last long.

The demi-humans, particularly the beastmen tribes, were ferocious and bloodthirsty, perhaps even more so than the elves. If they ever happen to unite and focus their unbridled fury on a single target, like the Theocracy, then the Six Scriptures and the military would be hard pressed to repel such a dangerous enemy. Fortunately, the demi-humans were busy warring against each other for dominance.

There were occasions where a beastman tribe would attempt to breach the Theocracy's borders or assail the Holy Kingdom's wall. Each attempt was thrown back, but not without some difficulty. The demi-humans were also clever and resilient.

Ian could count on one hand the number of times demi-human raiders slipping past their patrols and border guards, in order to raid the outlying villages sitting close to the edge of the Theocracy's territory.

The Theocracy would quickly rectify this mistake and rescue those taken by the beastly raiders. Despite assurances and constant boasts of the military might of employed by their country, there was still a constant foreboding sense of danger hanging over the region.

Ian shivered. Even though he grew up in the heartland, the silver haired priest remembered having nightmares when he was a boy. Those nightmares usually involved a band of demi-human raiders slipping past the supposed vigilant border guards and stealthily murdering his family and snatching him from his bed. Those nightmare scenarios varied from time to time. They would drag him off into the night, toward the Abelion Hills, and fed him to their ravenous young or forced him to watch as they butchered and cooked his family.

As he grew up, the nightmares eventually went away, but that sense of fear and dread remained.

To those who live in the heartland or in major cities like the capital, it may seem like madness to live so close to the border. Aside from personal reasons, there were some practical reasons for these villages. These far flung villages act as waypoints for troops and officials, while also providing food and other means of support for the garrisons along the border.

Shortly after meeting with Lauransan, Ian packed his things and assembled the few remaining Sunlight Scripture mages in the capital and rode to the designated fort near the border and linked up with Einon.

From there, the combined force rode westward and toward the most isolated village in the Theocracy.

In order to prevent being caught unawares and monitor the surrounding area for any possible demi-human movement or traps.

Ian and had some of the mages in the company use **[Scry]**. This potent spell allowed the caster to view the surrounding terrain stretching out a few miles.

It was nowhere near as powerful as **[Planer Eye]**, which would've required more time and men than he had.

Although it was nowhere near as powerful, it was very useful for scouting and reconnaissance. As they journeyed and made a brief pause to rest and water their horses, Ian's Sunlight Scripture subordinates reported nothing strange or out of the ordinary, nothing but peaceful fields and quiet forests.

Everything was as it should be, at least until they drew nearer to their destination.

The priest in charge of maintaining the observation spell reported interference. He described it as a dense and murky fog. When he tried to force his way through this fog, the man ended up screaming and clutching his head until he passed out. When his hood was removed, the healers discovered that the man's nose was bleeding.

Fortunately, the man woke up with nothing more than a minor headache. When asked about what happened, the man merely shrugged and stated that when he tried forcing his spell through the interference, he felt a freezing presence that effortlessly drove him back. That worried the men a little.

Ian then sent some scouts ahead to do some reconnaissance. The men sent ahead were a pair of experienced rangers, they knew the terrain well and were good at keeping to the shadows.

The rescue force waited a day or so but neither of the rangers returned. Worry and unease began to creep into each member of the mission but Ian managed to calm their fears and urge them onward.

Unfortunately, as they journeyed through the forest, the silver haired priest was beginning to have doubts.

* * *

Ian blinked and looked up, the edge of the forest neared. His stomach was in knots.

The silver haired priest had been in battle before, against elves and demi-humans. He hated it and wasn't overly eager to return to battle. However, every man must do their duty to protect their family, their home and their country. That is why he joined the military and eventually joined the Sunlight Scripture.

"Alright men!" Ian barked, glancing over his shoulder. The column of mounted knights and mages stiffened and became more alert.

"We've reached our destination," he continued, his voice echoed through the silent forest "I don't know exactly what we'll find but be alert and be ready for anything."

The knights and mages nodded in silent acknowledgement.

Einon nodded as well, the young knight kept a hand close to his sword. Ian took a deep breath and led his men onward, out of the forest and into the fading orange light of dusk.

Although he said to be ready for anything, Ian wasn't ready for the sight that awaited them.

* * *

Beyond the trees was a slope that led down to the little fortified village a short distance away.

However, after emerging from the forest, the silver haired priest brought his horse to sudden halt. Einon and the rest of the men came to a stop as well. They all sat there at the top of the hill, gaping at their intended target.

According to the map, before them should be rolling green hills, some tilled fields and a walled village of barely over a hundred people, along with a small garrison of soldiers. The village and the verdant hills and fields were there, though the map failed to account for the massive new castle that loomed in the distance.

Gleaming like a polished gemstone in the faint light of the fading sun, the immense structure looked a mountain compared to the rough and tumbled little village. Massive walls of smooth glossy green stone stood tall and proud, roughly a hundred feet high by Ian's own estimate but he felt that his estimate was woefully inaccurate. Beyond the mighty walls, the silver haired priest could see scattered golden domed roofs and spires, poking up just barely, like dandelions in spring.

Behind them stood more walls and buildings, which gave the castle's overall appearance of a multi-tiered wedding cake. All of these walls and structures culminated at an immense keep. The keep was a monolithic cube of glossy emerald. Standing beside it, connected by a bridge, was a colossal tower, also composed of shimmering emerald. This enormous structure reached high into the sky, like an ancient moss-covered lance.

It was so tall that the silver haired priest almost fell backward off his horse from trying to see the top of the tower.

A quartet of towers stood around the keep and central tower, positioned at the keep's four corners. In comparison to the central tower, the other four were smaller and thinner and didn't force the priest to strain to look at them. A dozen other smaller towers were scattered about the layout of the castle. All together, they looked like green skeletal fingers, clutching a large jewel, stretching out toward the heavens, as if in a show of its grandeur and power.

Ian rubbed his eyes to ensure that he wasn't hallucinating or sleeping. The castle was still there. The most astonishing feature of the castle, however, was its size. Its overall size was immense. Ian could tell that it was a fair distance away, though he was having trouble grasping the idea of it being possibly far bigger up close. The walls and buildings stretched on for several miles in either direction on the horizon, making it an arduous task to circumnavigate.

It was as if someone dropped a heavily fortified city in the middle of the vast wilderness close to the border, right next to the only village for miles. The structure could easily house thousands of troops and civilians and still have plenty of space leftover.

Atop the wall's battlements and the assorted smaller towers were shimmering banners of emerald and gold, flapping gently in the breeze.

Ian's gaze turned to the village and saw that it was, to his surprise, perfectly fine. Thin columns of pale smoke rose from chimneys and the soft orange light of lanterns and candles sputtered to life in various windows. On the soft cool wind, the priest could hear faint traces of voices. Something about this didn't sit right with the middle-aged priest. First the patrols vanished and then his rangers going missing.

There was an eerie pattern to this, like someone was depriving him of his forces and information. Were they all captured or were they dead? Then there was the interference with the scrying spell.

That unsettled him greatly.

Someone or something with a lot of magic knew they were coming and he didn't like that. A part of Ian told him to push on and investigate and get some answers. Though, another part of him, a frantic and somewhat logical part of him, suggested a safe and hasty retreat. But that would mean trekking back through miles of wilderness in the dark.

If there was a malevolent force out there, it could easily pick them off in the night. Ian stared at the way ahead of him. The castle wasn't there before, that was a fact. Yet, there were no indications of any recent or hasty construction. It was as if it just popped into existence over night.

Never in the history of the Theocracy was there ever a structure as imposing or as grand as the emerald castle.

Even the Cathedral of the Six Great Gods and the Palace of the Pontifex Maximus, two of the greatest pieces of architecture in the entire country, symbols representing the ingenuity and might of mankind, paled in comparison to the castle's majesty.

The beastmen and other demi-human tribes of the Abelion Hills were no craftsmen. They lived a primitive and brutal lifestyle. The overwhelming majority of beastmen living in the region roamed like starving predators, butchering those who got in their way, taking what they wanted and enslaving the broken survivors of their attacks.

There were a few tribes were known to keep sheep and cattle and foraged for their food. However, never in recorded history or living memory did the Theocracy ever hear of any beastman tribe creating a structure, especially one as grand and complex as this one.

It was possible that it might be the work of some other type of demi-humans, but still, it seemed very unlikely that they built something this big so quickly and left the village alone.

After a few moments of staring at the gargantuan castle in silent awe, Ian turned to his knights and priests. Awe and wonder written plainly on their faces. He looked back toward the village and the castle.

Silently, he weighed his options. He could report back to Cardinal Lauransan but Ian knew full well that he would receive a good scolding for completing only half of his mission's objectives, as well as failing to take advantage of a rare opportunity to learn something new. Ian could see that this structure was an immense castle, but he has yet to confirm the whereabouts of the captain of the fort garrison and the missing patrol.

Curiosity, and fear of drawing Lauransan's ire, gradually won over his apprehension of the unknown.

The priest tightened his grip on his reins. There was a good chance that none of them were going to make it back alive. But that's part of the job, whether he liked it or not.

_Better get this over with then_, Ian thought grimly.

The silver haired priest devised a strategy and issued his orders to his knights and priests. Once they understood their orders, the assembled riders dispersed, galloping away from Ian and Einon.

Once they were gone, Ian urged his horse onward. The priest and the young knight made their way down the hill and toward the village.

* * *

The sky was now a dark purple, the last dregs of sunlight gradually faded away into night. As they neared the village, Ian could hear music and laughter. The silver haired priest frowned to himself.

_A party?_ He thought. What would there be to celebrate? Was it a trap of sorts?

The gates were wide open and no sentry seemed to be posted in the guard tower. If this was a trap, the only way to know was to spring it. The priest reined in his horse and waited for a moment.

Earlier Ian had ordered his men to encircle the village and approach, cautiously. Once they were close, they were to hold position and keep watch for anything suspicious. The silver haired priest and Einon were going to go in and investigate alone. He told them the signal that would indicate that things were fine. If something were to go wrong, Ian will give a different signal. If he didn't give some sort of sign within a set amount of time the men were to destroy the village, no questions asked, and return to the fort.

Glancing at the twilight sky, Ian figured that the men should be in position by now. The growing dark should provide them with sufficient cover.

After a moment of waiting, Ian pressed on, Einon followed closely.

The front gates were left swinging wide open, practically inviting them in. The silver haired priest and the young knight entered without trouble or hesitation.

Inside, Ian and Einon found no beastman or demi-human warrior waiting for them, only houses with darkened windows and a warm glow a short distance ahead. The two pressed onward. Scanning the buildings around them, Ian noticed that none of the houses looked damaged or disturbed, showing no sign of battle or invasion. Demi-human raids often left obvious signs of violence and destruction and yet, Ian saw none of the damage he became accustomed to finding. His sense of unease increased.

Where were the soldiers? The villagers? He had a feeling that he'll be finding out soon enough as the two approached the glow coming from the village center.

* * *

In moments the two emerged from the shadows and into a crowded square.

The First Division Commander half-expected to find a gruesome bonfire, fueled by mutilated bodies and torn limbs, tended by a bunch of demi-humans cooking their dinner and waiting for them. However, he was astonished to see that the villagers were, in fact, alive.

Men, women and children of varying age, all gathered together in what appeared to be a celebration of sorts. A long wooden table was set up on one side, close to what looked to be an inn, covered with plates and trays of steaming hot food and casks of ale.

Scattered about the village square were hanging lanterns and candles providing little islands of light where people conversed, dined and drank at round, smaller tables.

In the center of the square was a moderate sized fire, fueled by a mound of logs and not bones as Ian had imagined. Around the flickering flames, villagers and soldiers danced and played as if nothing else in the world mattered, all spurred on by the trio of musicians playing in one corner of the square. Though he was relieved to see that the villagers appeared to be alive and well, the silver haired priest was still worried.

What were they celebrating and what about that gargantuan new castle sitting nearby? Through the dancing fire light and above the humble houses, Ian could see the gigantic towers looming in the distance like an insidious mountain against the darkening twilight.

The cheerful, and seemingly oblivious, villagers continued their revelries, not acknowledging the towers or the new arrivals.

The people appeared to be happy and carefree, yet there was something about this situation that didn't sit right.

_Something's wrong _thought Ian. A cold chill ran up his spine as he felt an odd, yet familiar, sensation sweep over him. It felt as though something cold and malevolent was watching him. No, watching wasn't the right word. Studying. Yes, that was the right word.

Numerous times in his life the silver haired priest had felt like he was being watched but that was different. This sort of sensation he felt only once. It was during his first mission as a member of the Sunlight Scripture, during a raid against a band of demi-human raiders. He could feel their hungry, hateful eyes on him, studying him and planning what part of him they wanted to devour.

That was one of the most unsettling sensations he had felt in his life. That is until now.

Now, that past experience seemed like a distant dream in comparison to the sensation he was feeling now.

Ian quickly scanned the crowded square, trying to locate the source of this sensation when his thoughts were disrupted by a familiar voice.

"Captain?" Einon spoke up.

The silver haired priest blinked, forgetting the unsettled feeling, and looked toward the young knight, whose gaze was fixed on a figure at the edge of the crowded square, opposite of them, seemingly engaged in conversation with two men. Ian leaned forward and he spied a grizzled man with greying black hair wearing pieces of polished steel armor and a cloak bearing the sigil of the Theocracy.

The man sat at a round table on the other side of the square, sitting across from him were a pair of men in visible worn and tattered cloaks.

Ian blinked. Those were his missing rangers.

Einon called out to the man.

"Captain Nerkun!" the young knight shouted, fighting to be heard over the cacophony of laughter and song. "Captain Nerkun!"

One of the rangers, a shaggy blond man with a thick beard, paused and looked in their direction. The ranger grinned broadly and waved at them. He nudged his comrade and said something to the grizzled captain. The other ranger and Captain Nerkun looked their way and a look of mild surprise entered the greying officer's craggy face.

The silver haired priest and the young knight dismounted and hitched their horses to a nearby post. When they entered the square, a feeling came over Ian. The air seemed to grow warm and tingly for just a brief moment before subsiding. Almost instantly, the assorted villagers lurking on the fringes, eating and drinking at tables, now seemed to acknowledge and notice their presence.

The silver haired priest suddenly felt like he was an intruding on a private affair, even though a moment ago he thought he was walking into a trap.

Carefully, Ian and Einon circumnavigated the heart of the festivities, avoiding the dancers and weaving their way through the spectators and tables.

Reaching the greying captain and the two rangers, Ian noticed that the captain looked worse for wear. Mud and dark blotches of what looked like dried blood sullied his blue and silver cloak. His armor was scuffed and scratched and the fort commander's left arm was resting in a makeshift sling, partially shielded from sight by his cloak. Despite looking like he marched through a thousand miles of mud and fought a battle on the other side of that journey, the once missing commander was alive and well.

"Lieutenant Einon?" Captain Nerkun said, somewhat surprised "I see that you finally made it. Thought you'd get here sooner."

"Y-yes, captain, sorry." the young knight informed the older man, sounding relieved and a little confused "W-we thought…the beastmen and…we thought the worst had happened."

The greying fort commander nodded slowly "Understandable. Still, I'm glad that you made it."

"Commander Heim, sir!" the ranger who first noticed them piped up. Edgar was the man's name, Ian remembered.

His companion and colleague was a pale, raven haired man named Wolfe. He seldom spoke but when he did, most people would listen to what he had to say. The two were skillful rangers, good at tracking, hiding and living off the land. The blond shaggy man reeked of ale and was covered in grime and dirt. His noticeably cleaner companion nursed a wooden cup, still full of ale, dark eyes scanning the jubilant crowd around them. Despite the filth and stench, Edgar was grinning ear to ear, his cheeks looking a little rosy.

"Come, sit down and relax! I'll-I'll order us another round." He barked at a nearby serving woman in an apron for more ale and she scurried off to fulfill his order.

Ian frowned at the rangers. "What happened to the two of you?" he asked, annoyed and relieved. "Why didn't you report back?"

Edgar and Wolfe both went still for a moment. The dark haired ranger remained quiet, his eyes going to the cup in his hands, and Edgar began to chuckle nervously.

"You see captain," he chuckled. "We would've returned, and we tried, but…uh…_she_ was very insistent that we should accompany her back to the village."

Ian scowled "Who was very insistent?"

"I was" declared a soft and silky voice.

The silver haired priest turned and felt his breath get caught in his throat. Standing there was a strikingly beautiful woman. The top of her head barely reached his chin. She had long snowy white hair cascading down to her shoulders like a glossy avalanche. Sky-blue eyes stared into his and a warm smile adorned the stranger's flawless features. The woman wore a plain brown rough spun dress and an apron. Though her attire made her appear to be an ordinary villager, her beauty and bearing easily could've made people mistake her for royalty. The woman's ruby lips spread into a smile that made Ian's heart skip a beat.

"I'm sorry for causing you to worry about your men," the woman apologized "but I absolutely needed their help throwing this celebration together. There was plenty of rubble and corpses to clean, homes to rebuild and whatnot after those monsters attacked us."

Ian blinked. Something in his gut told him that something in her explanation wasn't entirely truthful but a haze of warm and pleasant thoughts regarding the woman and her beauty quickly smothered those suspicions before it could fully develop.

The silver haired priest struggled to speak for a moment until he managed to ask in a somewhat shaky voice.

"C-couldn't you have at least sent one of them back and alerted us?" he asked, "P-perhaps then my men and I could've arrived much sooner to help, especially if there were beastmen about."

The woman looked at him, considering his words and him, for a moment then her smile broadened. A gentle, good-humored laugh escaped her lips.

"I suppose," the woman replied "but then again, this was supposed to be a surprise, just like _he_ wanted."

Ian stared at her, jealousy and despair flared up within him for a brief moment but quickly dissipated. The priest paused a moment and wondered where those feelings came from.

"Who is 'he', if I may ask?" Einon chimed in, appearing at Ian's side.

The priest turned his head quickly to the young knight. He had almost forgotten that he was there. The fog in his mind cleared a little.

"Oh, I am talking about my lord" the woman answered at once. A dreamy expression adorned her pristine face. "My wonderful master, the greatest magician the world has ever known. He is known by many titles: the Emerald Archmage, the Grand Magician and the Wonderful Wizard. He is one who vanquished countless horrible monsters and humbled the mightiest of warriors. He is one who has delved into the darkest reaches and discovered the secrets of magic. He is the supreme master of magic!"

Ian's eyebrow rose, somewhat intrigued.

"Really?" Einon asked, skepticism apparent in his voice.

The woman nodded "He's the lord of that castle" she gestured to the gigantic structure behind them "He brought it with him when he came to this land."

Einon looked at the castle, then to the woman, flabbergasted.

Ian crossed his arms. Being a member of the Sunlight Scripture, the silver haired priest's job had taken him to many far off places, allowed him to see numerous things and met all sorts of people. He's heard of many great warriors and mages. Most of them were just talk, usually people with big mouths that would boast of their strength when they had a little too much to drink or got too cocky. But there were a few who he knew of that were the genuine article.

For instance, the Baharuth Empire had that old magic caster, Fluder Paradyne. The old man was powerful and knowledgeable on the topic of magic, so much so that very few can be currently considered his equal.

Ian never met the man but he's heard stories and knew that even the best of the Theocracy, including the Six Cardinals, held him in high regard.

If _they_ respected him, then its safe to say that the Imperial Court wizard was the real deal.

Thinking of Paradyne, Ian considered the woman's words. Could this be another empty boast from some petty magic user? The man was apparently her lord and probably forced her to say such things. But what if they were not just words? Looking at the immense castle in the distance, Ian pondered the possibility of a wizard with the power to accomplish a feat of that magnitude.

The priest had never heard of anyone performing such a feat before. If this person was truly the real deal, then all the more reason to learn more about him. Perhaps they could even recruit this great magician. If he was as half as great as the woman made him out to be, then this could change everything.

Besides, this could give Ian a chance to spend time and talk a little more with this lovely-

Ian shook his head. The snow haired woman was beautiful but he should be focusing on the mission, though he could feel his thoughts beginning to wander a little.

Coming to his senses and wiping the shocked expression off his face, Einon cleared his throat.

"I don't believe I've heard of him," the young knight said, crossing his arms across his chest.

The woman fixed her gaze onto the doubtful knight, causing the young man cheeks to redden.

"I suppose you wouldn't have," she said, grinning sheepishly. "My master is a very private person and he hails from a strange and distant land that nobody here has heard of either. Me, my sisters and the rest of my master's servants came with him when he departed from the land he previously called home."

As Ian and Einon absorbed the woman's words, the serving woman from before arrived, carrying a tray with five new cups filled to the brim with frothy ale.

After distributing the drinks, the serving woman departed but not before performing a low and polite curtsy to the snow haired woman.

Ian turned back to the fair-haired woman and was about to ask her a question but a young girl rushed up to them and tugged at the woman's skirts.

"Come play with us!" the girl demanded.

The woman smiled "Of course!"

She glanced to Ian and Einon.

"I'm sorry but I have to go" she apologized, "The little ones can be quite insistent. Please, drink and relax. I will return in a little while."

With that, the young girl pulled the woman away, chattering away at a dizzying speed. Before disappearing into the crowd, the woman looked back one last time at Ian and grinned. The silver haired priest was left standing there in a daze for a few moments. His thoughts lingered on the white haired stranger who just appeared and vanished like an apparition.

After what seemed like an eternity, Ian was brought back to earth by a hand clapping him on the back.

"Come on Captain Heim" Edgar urged "Pull up a seat, take a break for a moment."

Ian nodded mutely and pulled up a chair beside Einon and Captain Nerkun. He looked at his drink for a moment, feeling a little thirsty but decided that he'd get to it later.

"So…" Captain Nerkun said, scratching his cheek "What brings a member of the Sunlight Scripture to this part of the world?"

Ian looked at him in surprise.

The greying fort commander waved a hand "Don't look so shocked. I know the Six Scriptures are supposed to be secretive and all but I've dealt with the Sunlight Scripture in the past, as well as the Windflower Scripture. Hell, I even met a member of the Black Scripture back when I was younger and they're supposed to be even more secretive than you guys."

Ian smiled a little, feeling slightly embarrassed, and explained "Cardinal Lauransan and others in the capital were growing rather worried about their men disappearing and the possibility of a beastman incursion. He sent us to rescue you."

The tattered commander snorted. "I find that hard to believe" Nerkun grumbled, "Lauransan was the one who recommended that I should be made me commander of Fort Barnsil in the first place. He probably just sent you to confirm that those demi-humans tore me to pieces. Besides, the cardinals and the High Council are too busy with the war in the south and their little games."

Ian winced. Assignments to the Abelion border were considered a punishment, sometimes even a death sentence. Some fresh recruits were sent their way, ones who were rather eager to serve the Theocracy and kill demi-humans. However, the majority of the garrisons in the forts lining the border were usually included more experienced soldiers and those who had disgraced themselves or some other thing to earn the offender a black mark on their record.

While the security of the northwest border was critical, the Theocracy's primary concerns lay more in the south with their war with the Elf Kingdom.

Few in the heartland were ever actually concerned with what went on in this part of the Theocracy.

Most in the upper echelons were too busy with their little hidden schemes related their grand vision of shepherding mankind into a glorious future. Not much could draw the attention of the higher ups to the more distant regions, unless it was a full on invasion, a regional governor kicking up a big enough fuss or peculiar events.

In this case, it was the latter.

"Regardless, I appreciate you lads coming out this way to lend a hand" Nerkun said "Shame, could've used you a day or so ago." He took a sip of his drink.

"What happened out here?" Einon asked, his eyes scanning the tables around them "Why didn't you report back and what happened to the men you took with you and the lost patrol?"

"The men I brought with me are here…somewhere. I think some of them were taking part in the dance over there. The men who we came looking for…" Captain Nerkun's expression sobered. "Well, that's quite a tale." He went silent for a long moment.

The music came to an end and a smattering of applause filled the air. People moved around them, searching for new partners or joining or leaving the dance. As the band began a new song, a slow and melodic tune, the fort commander began his tale.

"I'm sure you know that we came out here in search of a patrol that went missing" Nerkun began.

Ian and Einon nodded.

"Well, we found them alright…or what was left of them." He paused, took another swig of ale from his cup then continued. "Apparently there was an attack by some demi-humans, nasty ones, beastmen by the looks of them. It was northeast of here, a little closer to the border. The bastards must've slipped through under the cover of darkness, avoided the patrol from Fort Stonewell. Anyway, those men were on their way here to investigate…" he gestured behind him, toward the castle. "They just barely managed to escape but not without suffering some injury and losing a few of their men. The survivors managed to reach the village and found aid. The beastmen followed but, according to the village elders and from Farson, the leader of the patrol, those monstrous bastards took one look at the…castle…" he uttered the word slowly and softly almost as if he didn't want to be heard "And they ran away."

Einon's eyes widened and Ian remained silent. It was rather strange that the beastmen would runaway when there was a lonesome little village just sitting there, ripe for the taking. However, if it was the castle that scared them off, the silver haired priest didn't blame them. The thing was intimidating and probably housed all sorts of unknown danger.

Captain Nerkun took another sip of his ale and wiped the foam from his lips. "After we didn't hear back from the patrol, I decided to search for them, of course."

"Of course" Edgar belched.

"Well we arrived in Frith with no trouble at all. Farson and the remainder of the patrol told me what happened and after a brief search of the woods, there were no beastmen to be found. So, we decided to continue with the original mission of investigating the castle."

"And?" Ian asked.

Nerkun shrugged "Nothing. The gates were locked up tight and the walls were too high to scale. The castle had three other gates but none were as responsive as the first. Apparently it was always like that, since it appeared in the dead of night almost a week ago. The villagers had tried to communicate with whoever might be in it but received no response. One of the children did leave a little gift at the front gate, some fruit or a vegetable or some damn thing. The next morning it was gone. When we heard that, we knew that someone or something was in there. We considered forcing our way in, but that would've been foolish. I didn't know how to proceed."

Nerkun sighed, "Eventually we returned to the village. We were going to return to the fort with Farson and the wounded. I was planning on drafting up a report and maybe ask Cardinal Lauransan for help or General Malvis for advice. However, late that night, wild and ferocious creatures attacked the village. Like a tide of fur and claws, they came clambering over the walls and very nearly slaughtered us all, had it not been for Lady Galinda and the Green Knight."

Einon frowned "Who?"

"T-that lovely vision you were speaking to earlier" Edgar cut in. His speech had begun to slur a little.

Nerkun nodded "That's her. She showed up, in the middle of the battle and decimated a good number of those creatures with some sort of lightning spell."

"What spell was it?" Ian asked, curious.

The fort commander shrugged "Don't know, but from what I saw that spell was probably a fourth tier spell, maybe even higher."

The priest's eyes widened considerably. Fourth tier? Only very disciplined and skilled magic casters could reach Third tier and only some could reach Fourth. The Theocracy had mages who could perform such spells and have such power but to reach that level and go possibly beyond was incredibly rare. For someone to cast such spells and devastate a large number of enemies with ease, it would've been a truly remarkable sight.

"What happened next?" Einon asked, excitement creeping into his voice.

"The Green Knight tore through those beasts like they were nothing" Nerkun continued, his voice soft and carried a hint of awe. His expression grew distant, as if he was suddenly lost in thought. The band's song came to an end once more; again it was accompanied by scattered applause.

The greying fort commander blinked, seemingly breaking free from his memories, and drained the last of his ale from his cup. "Come morning, we survived and those…things didn't. I broke my arm during the battle. Thought I was done for. The whole lot of us thought we were done for, but Galinda and that knight saved us."

Nerkun sighed heavily "The days following was just cleaning up, tending to the wounded and repairing the damages inflicted in the battle."

"Really?" Ian questioned, "I didn't actually notice any damage or signs of repair. Were you a master carpenter or something before you became a soldier?"

Nerkun smiled "Son of a shopkeeper, actually. We did have a lot of help from Lady Galinda and her…lord."

"You met him?" Einon inquired, leaning forward.

The fort commander shook his head. "Only Galinda, that knight and those peculiar workmen. This lord of hers must truly be powerful if he could employ a woman like her and earn such lofty praise."

Ian nodded. _Powerful indeed_ the silver priest thought, casting a curious, and somewhat envious, gaze at the castle, as twilight finally became night.

* * *

The sky was now pitch black and the glittering stars were joined by a luminous full moon that bathed the landscape in pale light.

The castle drank in the light and seemed to shimmer and glow. Ian gave the signal indicating that everything in the village was safe and soon the rest of his men entered the village. The villagers were surprised by the sight but welcomed them with open arms.

The knights and mages graciously accepted some of the food and drink the villagers offered them and relaxed from the long and tense day. Another serving woman arrived, bearing more drinks on a wooden tray.

After a few rounds, Edgar stumbled off and drunkenly danced with the villagers. Wolfe later helped him stagger out of the square before he further embarrassed himself, but not after he accusing a leg of roasted lamb of mocking him. Einon had found the wounded men from the patrol and the remainders of those who traveled with Nerkun. The young knight was overjoyed to see his comrades alive, one of whom was a childhood friend.

Ian sat and drank with Nerkun. The ale was warm and sweet. The rich amber liquid seemed to wash away the pain and tension in the priest's body. Time seemed to melt away and everything grew fuzzier, lighter. Ian set aside his empty cup and reclined in his chair.

"Y-you know" Nerkun mumbled, resting his chin in the palm of his hand, propping up his head above the table. His eyes grew heavy and his speech was slurred.

"Hm?" Ian looked at his colleague.

"I-it was a good thing that Galinda and-and that knight showed up when they did" the fort commander said, looking at him with tired and unfocused eyes "T-those…those beasts…unlike anything I have ever seen."

The priest tilted his head, looking confused.

"In all my years, I have never seen such horrible, hideous creatures. They-they looked deformed…barely resembled any beastman I knew of…the-the faces and the screaming," he hiccuped and went silent. He looked about him for a moment, as if looking for something then looked at Ian "I forgot where I was going with that. Oh well!"

Ian snorted. "I think you had one too many."

"Aye, I thi-think so."

The priest chuckled and looked up to admire the beauty of the night sky but paused when something caught his eye. For a brief moment, he thought he saw a shape moving in the dark sky above but it was rather sudden. One moment it was there, the next it was gone.

_Probably just an owl or something_ Ian figured. He closed his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Though he saw nothing in his dream, Ian could still hear the music and sounds of the party echoing through his ears.

The priest was content to floating in darkness, listening to the sounds of life, wrapped in the warmth provided by the ale and the knowledge that Captain Nerkun and his men were safe and alive. Unfortunately, this pleasant sleep didn't last.

Almost instantly, Ian was overcome by an icy cold feeling. It was as if someone had dropped him into a lake in the middle of winter, which seemed to sap away all the feeling of warmth and security that previously enveloped him.

This sensation was similar to what he felt when he first arrived, only it was even worse than that one. The difference between the two feelings was as noticeable as comparing a burning twig to a forest fire. The cold and malevolence seeped through his clothes, his skin, all the way down to his bones and his soul.

The priest felt a sudden, sharp pain in his head. He winced and grabbed at his head. The pain wormed its way around in his skull, almost as if something was rooting around in his brain. As suddenly as it started, the pain ended.

In the midst of the encroaching coldness and darkness, Ian felt as if someone, or something, incredibly evil was close by…watching him.

Something within him told him to run away but the ale dulled his mind and the rest of his senses.

Through the murky haze of ale and the cold darkness, Ian found himself in a spacious and dimly lit chamber. Everything was out of focus and blurry, making it difficult to make out any telling details. The only thing he could firmly establish was that this chamber was spacious and occupied. There was only one thing he could see clearly in this strange chamber.

In one corner, a short distance away from him, to his left, Ian saw pair of luminous emerald eyes, staring directly right at him.

Before he could truly consider what could be the cause of this sensation or who these eye could belong to, something grabbed him.

* * *

The priest's eyes flew open and he sat upright. Ian looked around hastily and saw that he was still in his chair, at the table, in the village square.

Captain Nerkun was still in his seat, though he was fast asleep, his head resting in his hand.

"Sorry" apologized a familiar voice.

Ian looked up and saw the woman with snow-white hair, Galinda, standing there. She currently had her hair done up in a braid and wore a meek smile.

"Did I startle you?" she asked "I didn't mean to."

"N-no" Ian stammered, rubbing his bleary eyes "I…I was just waking up…" He took a moment to get reacquainted with his surroundings and allow the haze of sleep and ale to clear. Ian knew that he was still at the village of Frith with Captain Nerkun. However, he quickly discovered that the square was fairly empty.

The air was now devoid of music and laughter. A lot of the tables had been removed and the crowd was long gone, save for a few men and women cleaning up and helping those who had too much to drink head back to their houses.

"Must've dozed off," Ian grinned sheepishly "That's never happened before."

"You've had a long day," the pale woman reasoned "All that traveling and worrying about your comrades. Its understandable."

When he inquired about his men and accommodations, she gestured towards the front gates of the village.

"Since there's no spare room in the village, your men had set up camp just beyond the wall" Galinda informed him gently. "My lord has told me to inform you that you need not worry about the bestmen or any demi-humans this night. He has set up powerful wards and barriers to keep out any intruders. He has also ordered his servants to stand guard this night."

Ian blinked in surprise. That was an awfully generous gesture. Although demi-human and beastmen raids were rare, those living close to the border, or on it, often worried when night fell. Night was the perfect time for a roving band of monsters, perfect to hide and kill as they pleased. Even those briefly visiting the area, officials and non-combative clerics, always kept watches at night.

Vigilance was key to survival.

When Ian tried to decline the offer, Galinda insisted.

"My lord has made it very clear" she said firmly and kindly, "We will watch over you and the village this night. Please, get some rest, while you can."

With that she departed, carrying away two handfuls of empty wooden cups.

Ian didn't know what to say. He wanted to argue and maybe talk with her a little more but he was feeling exhausted.

The silver haired priest woke Captain Nerkun up. With the captain's arm around his shoulders, Ian helped the drunken fort commander back through the village and out the front gates. On their way out, Ian thought back to that cold and eerie sensation he felt. The more he thought about it, the more it unsettled him. He had been in some dangerous situations before and felt a chilling sensation akin to what he just felt. Only this one felt more immediate and more dangerous than anything he had ever felt.

Then there were those eyes. The thought of them made Ian's hair stand on end.

Thinking about what might have been the source of those feelings and images, a single thought randomly popped into his mind that made him stop in his tracks.

Ian considered it for a moment but shook his head. There was no way that Galinda was the source of that creepy evil feeling he felt.

The priest scoffed at the thought and yet…something in the back of his mind continued to nag at him.

He shrugged and trudged on through the gates with Captain Nerkun. He'll worry about it later.

* * *

Perhaps the priest could've puzzled out what caused him to feel so unsettled, had he the time and drive to do so.

Unfortunately, those thoughts would quickly be forgotten and his focus would be redirected elsewhere.

As fate would have it, at dusk that very next day, at a small village called Carne far away from where Ian and his men slept peacefully, the arrogant Captain Nigun Grid Luin and the majority of the Sunlight Scripture met their doom.

Their doom was brought about by the hands of another peculiar mage, a mage who will soon garner quite an infamous reputation around his new name, a reputation that would inspire fear and awe among all who heard it: Ainz Ooal Gown.

* * *

**(A/N: what do you think? A little trivia: Ian Als Heim is a character from the Overlord mobile game, which was only released in Japan. He was briefly mentioned in the wiki about the Sunlight Scripture. Anyway, please let me know what you think of the story so far.)**


	4. Sweet Caroline

**(a/n: Hey everyone! Sorry for the wait. Had lot of things going on and had to do some rewrites and such. Enjoy this new chapter!)**

* * *

Ch.4: Sweet Caroline

Kane sighed heavily and reclined in his seat, kicking his feet up on the coffee table in front of him while staring blankly into the half empty cup of blood in his hands.

The _Bronze Ox_ was devoid of life, save for the vampire assassin who sat alone on one of the four couches positioned around a polished coffee table in the upstairs sitting area. His raven hair, usually tied up in a knot or a braid, was now hanging down to his shoulders in a wild unkempt mess.

The vampire smoothed back his hair, trying to keep it out of his face. He looked down at his attire with a measure of distaste and annoyance. Here he was, an unemployed human turned video game vampire, sitting around dressed in a long sleeved white silk shirt and black trousers and boots, drinking blood alone in formerly digital fantasy inn.

What he wouldn't give to be dressed in normal clothes and not look like one of those guys on the cover of those old cheesy romance novels. Unfortunately, there wasn't anything else to wear. If he wanted new clothes, he'd have to get one of the elves to work on it or find a way to make his own.

That can wait for another time. They have more than enough issues on their plate already. As Kane took another sip, he reflected on current events.

For Kane and his brother, the last several days had been a lengthy process of experimentation with their new abilities. It had been a rather fun, albeit nerve wracking, few days. They started off with the smaller and least destructive spells and attacks, testing their destructive capabilities, which produced startling results. The two then tested their defensive abilities and even discovered that the **[Message]** spell still worked. That was a fun little adventure.

However, for the past two days Kane had wanted to get some peace and alone time. The inn's resident NPC's had become very attached to him and Gareth.

Wherever one of the brothers went, one of the elves, the maids or the wizard Neremyn, would eagerly follow them like a dutiful guard dog. It was sweet at first but then it got rather bothersome, with the NPC's trailing closely behind, jumping at every rustling bush and treating them like they were made of glass whenever the brother's insisted on doing something on their own.

Thankfully, Neremyn and a majority of the elf maids were currently outside occupying themselves with building the new fortifications for the inn.

Now that he's finally got his moment of peace and solitude, however, Kane wanted some company to stave off this increasing sense of boredom.

Fortunately, loud footsteps could be heard making their way up the stairs until Gareth appeared, carrying a big grey metal chest.

"Need a hand?" Kane asked.

"Nah, I got it," the bard said as he gently placed the chest onto coffee table in the middle of the circle of couches. The bard was no longer wearing his red cloak and feathered cap. Instead, the blond opted for a white shirt, green doublet and brown trousers. His long blond hair was slicked back, which caused it to flow down past his shoulders like a well-groomed golden waterfall.

Gareth sat down on the couch across from Kane and tapped the lock, causing it to click open and he opened the lid. The vampire sipped his half empty cup of blood, watching with a mixture of boredom and fascination as his brother reached into the chest, going elbow deep and rummaging around in the murky blackness within the magical container.

"Looking for something?" Kane asked after another sip.

"Just getting reacquainted with my old things," Gareth said, pulling out a tattered looking book from the chest. The bard opened the book, flipping through the pages slowly and carefully. "It's been a while since I was last logged in. I barely remember half of the stuff I owned in Yggdrasil. Now that we're in a totally new world with real powers, its fair to say that our items are real."

"Right," Kane agreed with a nod.

"Right, so it'll be useful to take stock of what we have and see what could be useful."

Kane nodded again. He had considered that. The two of them were no longer human and could do things that no ordinary human could possibly do. The tests that they ran with their characters in-game abilities attested to that. So it's not too much of a leap to assume that their items were also real magical items and weaponry.

Gareth closed the book gently and set it aside on the table. He reached in and sifted around the inside of the chest once more.

Kane leaned forward, setting his cup aside and resting his elbows on his knees. Propping his head up with his hands, the vampire watched as a growing sense of fascination and nostalgia as the bard unloaded more items.

Soon the table's surface became covered with a variety of items and weapons that Gareth had collected over the ten long years of playing Yggdrasil.

A small smile worked its way onto Gareth's face as he withdrew a dagger with an ornate silver grip from the depths of the chest. He pulled the dagger free from its sheath, revealing a flawless shiny blade.

"I remember this thing," the bard said, turning the dagger over in his hand and showed Kane the pommel.

The vampire vaguely recognized the pommel, which was a marble-sized ruby in the silvery grip of a bird's talons, but couldn't remember where it was from.

"Oh yeah," Kane said in remembrance, staring at the blade with wide eyes "That thing, I remember that time at that place we got that super awesome dagger."

Gareth rolled his eyes. "You don't remember, do you?"

"Nope," the vampire admitted.

"It's the dagger we got off that one party, the Falcon Knights, after the Black Marsh Keep dungeon raid."

Kane frowned and thought for a moment, wracking his brain for anything that might relate to that name. "Sounds familiar," he said after a few moments. "Who were they again?"

"You know, those paladins who thought they were the bees knees and tried picking a fight with Wilhelm over leadership of the Shining Crusade?"

Kane grinned "Bees knees?"

"Yeah and?"

The vampire chuckled "Who even says that anymore?"

"Plenty of people," Gareth said, almost defensively. "Look do you remember them or not?"

"Ok, no need to get your panties in a twist, grandpa" Kane said and thought for a moment. After a brief moment of silent contemplation, realization crossed his pale features.

"Oh yeah," the vampire said slowly "Those douchebags. Weren't those were the guys who tried killing me because I was a vampire?"

"That and you called them a bunch of cock pirates for being rude and constantly hitting on those elf girls, who, ironically, happened to be dudes."

Kane burst out laughing.

"Wilhelm had you two duel over their 'tarnished honor' and you won."

"That's right," The vampire assassin nodded, a wistful smile appeared on his face. "Yeah, I won the dagger as a reward and then I gave it to you, saying that it wasn't worth the effort. He went into some spiel about how it was forged by some fancy blacksmith and cost a shit ton of gold."

Kane sighed, "Man, that guy was such a tool. Heck of a fighter, but a massive tool."

The two chuckled. The bard sheathed the dagger and set on the growing pile of items on the table. As Gareth continued rooting around his seemingly bottomless storage chest full of memories, Kane became lost in thought.

Who would've thought that their current predicament would be because of a video game? While he wasn't a fan RPGs, the vampire enjoyed his time on Yggdrasil. It provided ten years of fun and memories with Gareth and their friends. Sure he was practically dragged along on a bunch of grueling quests, harassed by annoying players with humanoid characters and role-played through some embarrassing "adventures" with their party. But ultimately, the vampire treasured those memories, the good and the bad.

Life outside the game was rough for everyone. It was cold and bleak in the U.S. but it was even worse in some parts of the world. Games like Yggdrasil were among the few things that distracted people from the ugliness of reality and kept them sane…somewhat. There were people who spent their every waking moment of their lives online, trying to escape their misery and pain.

Kane knew a few of those types and it was absolutely heart wrenching to see but he understood where they were coming from. He was in their shoes at one point of his life. He had an unnatural amount of time online at one point in his life, trying to lose himself in the endless digital abyss of virtual reality. He barely managed to escape it, thanks to some friends and to his boss, who was concerned about him and the fact that he was missing work a lot.

* * *

The vampire's thoughts were interrupted when a green haired elf maid emerged from the stairs, carrying a tray of food and a pitcher of beer. The elf carried the tray to the table but saw the clutter and set it down on couch next to theirs. Kane watched the elf with some interest.

Only a week ago she was pixels and data. Now, she was a living breathing person. He could smell her blood, her sweat and the faint fading fragrance of the spices from the kitchen she used to prepare this meal.

For the first few days, Kane imagined that this was all just some lucid dream or some surprise update to Yggdrasil, to make it more lifelike and real. But as the days progressed, the vampire soon dropped those ideas and eventually made peace with the fact that this was their new reality. It wasn't too bad, it could've been way worse. He could've ended up alone in some scorching desert or in that new horror survival game that quickly overtook Yggdrasil in the States. He had his brother, they had a roof over their heads, and they had food and, best of all, a whole world that was rich with life and fresh clean air. All in all, he was truly lucky.

The green haired elf curtseyed and announced in a soft respectful voice "Your lunch, my lords."

Kane nodded at her. "Very good, Tina," he said his voice deep and velvety "you are dismissed."

The green haired elf's cheeks turned red and she scurried off without a word. Once she was gone, Gareth snorted with subdued laughter.

"What?" Kane asked, confused.

"Her name is Rina," the bard informed him, chuckling.

"Is it?" the vampire asked.

Gareth nodded, still chuckling.

Kane's face gained some color "You know I'm not good with names."

"I told you their names like five times! Use the stat menu if you get confused."

"I can't be bothered. Besides, I don't know how to pull that thing up."

"Okay, grandpa," Gareth chuckled.

The vampire mumbled a pitiful "shut up" as a smile grew on his face.

After the last little piece of available space on the coffee table was filled, the bard placed the chest on the floor by his feet and filled that space too.

The two brothers took some time eating their lunch before Gareth resumed his dig through his storage chest. Every few items brought up an old memory or a funny story, which made the two brothers smile and created a warm nostalgic atmosphere. This warm and cheerful atmosphere evaporated with the next item withdrawn from the item chest.

Gareth's cheerful smile flickered and faded. "Oh…" he said, lifting the item up.

Kane's smile faded as well. In the bard's hand was a glowing blue-white crystal the size of a brick. The two stared at the crystal for a long silent moment, until Gareth spoke.

"Huh…didn't think I'd see this again," the bard said, hefting the crystal in his hand. "Never knew you could take these out of the guild base."

"I guess…" Kane said, slowly, scratching his chin "Though I could've sworn…" he trailed off, trying to remember when he retrieved that particular sealing crystal. Aside from a handful of hard earned items and weapons, the crystal in Gareth's hand was one of the bard's most prized possessions in Yggdrasil.

Contained within its shiny, crystalline form is his NPC's data.

* * *

Back in the day, before everything went to shit, the two brothers were among the founding members of one of the largest guilds comprised of westerners in Yggdrasil.

The DMMO-RPG was the home to numerous guilds. These guilds varied in size, ranging from small groups comprised of a dozen friends to enormous factions that could number in the hundreds, even thousands. Gareth and Kane's guild, known as the Emerald Legion, was one such guild.

They started off as a small time group of role-playing adventurers but as Yggdrasil and the competition grew more bitter and intense, their numbers skyrocketed. Of course, that was partially because of one of their early additions.

Kane scowled at the memory of that slimy asshole. Funny how the one who helped the guild flourish was also the one who destroyed Gareth's in game reputation. Despite his hatred, the vampire couldn't help but admire how the guild changed and how it survived under his leadership.

At some point or other, all players learned that it really paid to have friends. Competition on the DMMO-RPG was fierce and with how people were treated due to character race or some other trait, people quickly latched onto the "strength in numbers" strategy. It was because of this, the Emerald Legion became what it was. Although they didn't even come close to cracking the top one hundred guilds list, the Legion survived its share of hard times and showed that it was a force to be reckoned with.

They stood shoulder-to-shoulder with another Western based guild, the Shining Crusade, fighting off PK guilds and clearing some serious dungeons. One of those dungeons later became the Legion's headquarters, which helped put them on the map. After winning themselves a rather spacious and neat dungeon base, the senior most members of the Legion earned the right to oversee its day-to-today operations and create NPCs to act as guardians. It was a fun but rather intensive process.

Kane didn't get to make one because he was away on IRL business. Even if he were available, he would've declined the offer anyway. Creating an NPC was too time consuming. But Gareth, on the other hand, jumped at the chance. The bard helped a mutual friend of theirs, a player named Alice, design and customize her NPC and set to work on his soon afterward.

It was during this time of change when things went down the tubes. The vampire shook his head free of those thoughts and returned his attention to the crystal in his brother's hand. Kane knew that he gathered up everything he and his brother left behind at the vault in their guild base but he could've sworn that the crystal wasn't among them. Even if they were put into sealing crystals or broken down into pure data, guild base and floor guardian NPCs are restricted from leaving their designated areas.

This was due to two reasons. First was due to technical reasons. Floor guardian NPCs and their data were closely tied to their floor and dungeon. If anyone tried to move them, even without the protocols that kept them boxed in, removing them would cause all sorts of problems for the servers. Some would think it odd or some sort of design flaw. However, keeping NPCs, especially high-leveled ones, within their pre-approved spaces was not only due to technical reasons.

The second and more important reason was due to gameplay issues. In the past, it was possible to aggravate and lure a raid boss or floor guardian from their dungeon. Kane remembered overhearing discussions about the possible implications of doing such a thing, like how far it could go and the damage it could cause to players. The topic was debated and discussed for some time but never really went anywhere. That was until someone actually went and did it.

On an ordinary day in Yggdrasil, a small time party full of dingbats snuck into an incredibly dangerous dungeon in Muspelheim and had led the raid boss on a violent rampage through a neutral town as a joke. This particular town was one of a number of places where players could buy or sell items, take up a quest or just hang out in peace and safety without being killed or ambushed. This little prank caused a lot of powerless players to lose a shit ton a lot of gold, levels and items. It very nearly wrecked the game itself, as the gargantuan fire demon continued to rampage for several hours, killing more players and causing all sorts of chaos, before finally being vanquished.

In the aftermath, a massive update was installed to the game in order to prevent such a thing from happening again. Even if players tried to hack or modify the game in order to recreate that little stunt, they run the risk of exposing themselves and crashing the server. It was a rather bizarre way to keep players in line, but very few dared to try. Those few who did were promptly banned from the game. Forever.

Although the vampire's memory for names wasn't worth shit, he knew for a fact that he _didn't_ take the crystal from the castle vault. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't have, he couldn't find it anywhere and had assumed that was deleted or sold to another guild member.

So how did it end up in Gareth's storage chest?

* * *

After a long moment of silent examination of the crystal, Gareth looked at his brother and smiled warmly. "Thank you," the bard said softly "I was worried that Oswald would've deleted her."

"No problem" Kane said, shrugging.

"Seriously, it means a lot to me. Really."

Kane shrugged and then he paused. "Her?" the vampire asked.

Gareth nodded "Yeah, she was going to be a guardian on one of the upper floors, near the Astral Tower or the Celestial Observatory but Oswald butted in and had someone else's NPC installed."

"Typical" Kane murmured bitterly but perked up. A grin formed on his marble white face. "Soooo," the vampire said sweetly "What's her name? Your little cyber girlfriend, I mean. Is it Alice Junior? Alice 2.0?"

"It's Caroline," Gareth said, blushing a bit. "You know like the song Grandpa Max used to sing when we were kids."

"You mean…" Kane hummed the tune and Gareth nodded in confirmation. "Not a bad name" the vampire remarked.

The two gazed at the crystal for a moment, unsure what to do. Gareth turned the crystal over in his hand.

"Ten years…" the bard said softly. "Ten long years…we had some good times huh?"

"Yeah," Kane said, reclining in his chair "Honestly, it was kind of rough during the first two but it got better."

"Yeah, and who would've thought that we end up as our in-game characters."

Kane smiled "Crazy isn't it? I mean, a week ago I was having a Jack and Coke and browsing the want ads online in my tiny apartment in Ohio. Now, I'm drinking blood and am being waited on by elves in the middle of a forest in another world."

Gareth snorted, "A week ago, I was at my desk at work pushing papers and counting down the minutes until I could get home, have a nice cold drink and finish my marathon of classic fantasy films. Now, I'm a blond, I'm probably unemployed now, sitting here with a bottomless box full of a decade's worth of magical items and weapons that I got from a video game. A video game that…" Gareth trailed off. His flawless face became gloomy and downcast.

"…_that nearly ruined my life,_" Kane finished in his head.

Though their childhood was distant and rather hazy in some parts, Kane distinctly remembered that Gareth had trouble making friends when they were kids. He was always shy and struggled to find ways to connect with people. That is, until Yggdrasil.

In Yggdrasil, Gareth was more outgoing and comfortable with himself. He was able to befriend a number of other players who were just as nerdy and excited about the game as he was.

Kane showed up a little after the initial launch, having been persuaded to join by former friends and co-workers who hyped the game up to no end. Incidentally, the vampire found his brother during a big PVP battle between a dozen different parties.

Though it had been a long time since they last spoke, Kane could hear Gareth's distinct voice over the chaotic, and albeit overdramatic, cacophony of voices from other players. They found each other afterward and joined forces. It was because of Gareth that Kane even bothered to stay on for as long as he did. Had things gone differently years ago, the vampire would've ditched Yggdrasil in favor of a zombie game that had just been released at the time. He never regretted the decision to stay.

The vampire set aside his cup, got up and moved over to Gareth's couch and sat down beside his brother. He put an arm around the saddened bard.

"Listen" the vampire said in a firm voice. "I know it sounds kind of obvious and maybe a little insensitive of me to say but, you should just forget about what happened."

"But-"

"Just shut up and listen."

Gareth looked at Kane.

"What happened has happened, there's nothing you can do about it," the vampire explained, "I know what happened to you and it sucked, royally. If I'd been there-"

"Then we both would've been kicked out and lost all our items and gold," Gareth pointed out gloomily.

"True, but not before giving ol' Oswald and his creepy little harem of brownnosers what they deserved."

The bard shrugged "I guess."

"I know that doesn't mean much but trust me when I say this: I'm sorry for not being there to back you up. But don't worry, from here on out, whatever it is we do, we do together."

The bard snorted and a wide grin took form on his face.

"No homo right?" Gareth asked.

"Yeah, no homo," Kane laughed, slapping his brother on the back.

Kane released his brother from his embrace and stood. "Now, as of this moment, I don't want you moping or crying about the past" he said as he circled the cluttered coffee table. "Got it?"

"I don't mope. I wasn't crying either," Gareth mumbled.

"Got it?"

"Yes, fine jeez!"

The vampire gave the bard a look and he gestured to himself "Look at us! A new world with hot new faces and freaking super powers! We have a clean slate; past and future all squeaky clean! No need to worry about taxes or pollution! Those chodes at the guild can eat a bag of donkey dicks for all I care, except for Alice, the twins and Mike, God rest that glorious bastard. Yggdrasil's gone now anyways. The past is behind us and we got a vast and endless horizon ahead of us now. We just won the friggin' lottery and got a massive upgrade! So there's no reason to mope. This is something to celebrate!"

Kane saw that the gloom on Gareth's was all but gone now. The bard nodded slowly.

"Yeah, you're right," the blond admitted, though there was still a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"You're damn right I'm right," Kane said, walking by and playfully punching his brother in the arm "I can't remember when I was wrong. Except for that time back when we were dealing with those whack jobs from that European guild. Though, in my defense, nobody knows what goes on in those guys' heads. Not even Wilhelm could get a read on them, and he's one of them!"

Gareth rolled his eyes.

Kane sat back down at his couch and began drumming the table. "So, in order to celebrate our newfound freedom, I suggest that we do something new and get out of this boring little popsicle stand for a bit!"

"And do what?"

"Go exploring!" Kane declared, "Lets travel a little bit and see what this world has to offer. Maybe we can follow that road beyond the trees and see where it leads."

"I guess so…" Gareth said, scratching his chin. "But what about the inn? What if it gets, I don't know, attacked while we're away."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what if we're not the only ones here and what if these other people have powers. What if there are bandits or monsters here? I already have this feeling that we're not alone in these woods. What if there are people here who are as strong as us, maybe even stronger! Neremyn and the others won't stand a chance."

Kane frowned and considered his brother's words. The vampire had considered that possibility and never really gave it as much thought. If Gareth were right, then none of the elves, or the dwarves for that matter, would last long. Sure they were fairly high level but nowhere near as high as the two brothers. They could put up a reasonable fight but they would eventually get crushed or worse, captured.

A thought came to Kane's mind. His ruby eyes drifted back toward the crystal in his brother's hand. Gareth frowned in confusion and looked at the crystal. It took him a moment but it finally dawned on him.

"She might be strong enough" Gareth speculated, "She's nearly as powerful as the old floor guardians. She's nearly as strong as we are, give or take a few levels."

"That sounds like a good bet," Kane said. "Well then…open it up"

"How?" the bard asked. "I mean its not like it has a button or a switch."

"Maybe you can open it the way you usually open those things on Yggdrasil" Kane suggested.

Gareth nodded and swallowed. He squeezed the crystal in his hand and the light within the crystal grew brighter. Instead of it shattering, as it usually does when activated, a translucent menu screen popped open above the crystal. The bard blinked and Kane joined his brother's side.

"_Warning: Insufficient data_" the menu read. "_Please input the needed data to so that the object can be properly rendered_."

Kane frowned "What data?"

Gareth swiped right on the screen, bringing up a page displaying the NPC's data, complete with a several tabs devoted its abilities, skills and items. Gareth began reviewing the data. Carefully going through each tab and reviewing the work he had done in the past. Kane whistled in appreciation.

"Not bad" the vampire said, nodding at the list of stats and items she was given "Really fits the angel thing you got going."

"Thanks" Gareth replied, his eyes roving about the screen, looking for the incomplete section "You have no idea how much time I had poured into this."

"I can imagine."

After some lengthy scrolling and careful inspection, the two finally discovered what was missing: background information. From the looks of things, Gareth had stopped partway through writing the NPC's background information and personality traits. It's not necessarily a major programming error or a game-breaking mistake. A player can forgo the personality and background of an NPC but it takes half the fun out of it and makes for a very boring experience.

Fortunately, it seems that most of the work was done and needed some touching up and minor additions. The two cleared some space on the table, transferring most of the scattered items to the other three couches. Once there was space enough to work, Gareth placed the crystal on the table. This allowed the object to rest on an even surface, gave the two brothers even space to view the screen and allowed the two to operate said screen like an old touch screen device. The two rolled up their sleeves and went to work.

* * *

Time crawled by slowly as the bard and the assassin read through the original block of text and discussed what could be improved and what could be added. Although background information isn't really all that critical for an NPC but they weren't in a video game anymore. There's no telling what effect this lengthy bit of text could have on the NPC or on them.

The two spent some time spit balling ideas, making minor adjustments, fixing some bad grammar and misspelling, while trying to craft a functional and friendly NPC. Taking turns typing and implementing agreed changes and additions, the two worked slowly and diligently. They were occasionally interrupted by the occasional appearance by Rina, who brought them word on the progress of the fortification efforts outside and topping off Kane's cup with fresh blood. The elf's cheeks reddened when she tended to the vampire, which caused the two brothers to share odd looks.

After what seemed like hours, Gareth typed out the last line and sat back sighing in satisfaction.

"Done," the bard declared at last.

Kane leaned forward, and scanned the translucent screen and read their work aloud. "_Caroline is a powerful angel who once guarded the Astral Tower but is now the Supervisor of the Bronze Ox Inn and its entire staff._"

He mumbled through the section about her appearance and picked up closer to her personality and mannerisms.

"_She is the definition of a genteel woman. She carries herself with distinction and a quiet grace. Even in the heat of battle, Caroline keeps a cool head and stands resolute against her foes. Despite her refined exterior and manners, she is not above getting her hands dirty and dealing with obstacles personally. She is determined and will let nothing stand between her and her goals. Although she is a harsh taskmaster and often enough comes off as cold and aloof to strangers, the angelic noble woman greatly values her subordinates and comrades. She has a strong sense of justice and won't tolerate_…_"_

Kane got bored and mumbled through the rest of the text until he came the end.

"Well?" Gareth asked. The bard was off to the side, sneaking a bite from the remnants of his already cooled lunch while the vampire inspected their work.

The vampire flicked the screen, scrolling through the lengthy background details, checking for inconsistencies and mistakes. Exhausted by the hours of writing and rewriting copious amounts of text, Kane was eager to be done. However, he did feel that the background information was lacking in something…important.

"Looks good but…it needs one last thing," Kane said, tapping the screen and began adding some new lines near the end.

"What're you doing?" the bard asked, concerned.

"Just applying the finishing touches," the vampire answered plainly.

The finishing touch read as thus:

"_Caroline is eternally loyal to Kane and Gareth. She lives to serve them and enforce their will. Her loyalty to Kane comes from a strong sense of duty and honor. Meanwhile, her loyalty to Gareth stems from her deep abiding admiration and affection for her lord and maker._"

"Aaaand now, we're done," Kane said, absentmindedly hitting 'Enter' on the screen.

"Wait!" Gareth rushed to see the changes made by his brother but the translucent screen disappeared before he could see.

The bard looked at his brother.

"What did you-?" the question died in his throat when the crystal began to glow brighter and brighter, filling the sitting area with a blinding blue-white light.

The crystal cracked then shattered into a million glittering pieces, which quickly faded away like dying embers. Kane shielded his stinging eyes, automatically hissing at the almost divine light.

Gareth watched in awe and worry as the light began to dim and take form. In a matter of moments the light died. Kane lowered his hands and watched through narrowed eyes.

An awful thought came to mind and the vampire placed a hand behind his back and concentrated. A moment later he felt the familiar weight of his black bladed dagger _Death's Fang_ appear in his hand. A hint of relief filled him. Took him some time and a lot of trial and error to learn to summon his weapon without a keyboard. Fortunately, all that hard work seemed to have paid off.

Normally, Kane would wait and see how things go. However, this was no longer a game. He can't afford to relax as much as he used to in these unknown situations. If their work succeeded then the two had just added a powerful figure into their roster. If it didn't and if it went berserk, well… It helps to be prepared.

Once the light had finally died, the two brothers saw a woman, hovering a foot above the table. Clad in a flowing blue dress, the woman was slender and statuesque. For a second, the vampire thought she was a statue. Her face was flawless and pale as marble. Her hair was a light, almost snowy, shade of blond.

The woman's eyes fluttered open, revealing a matching pair of sky blue eyes. She descended and softly landed on the table. Gazing about, she studied her surroundings carefully until her eyes landed on Gareth and Kane. The woman hopped off the table and landed on the floor, making no sound.

After smoothing out her skirts, the woman bowed her head and knelt before the two.

"My lord Gareth," Caroline said, her voice was soft as silk "My lord Kane, how may I be of service to you? Whatever it be, name it and I'll see it done."

Kane and Gareth shared a look. The vampire shrugged, not really sure what to say or do at this point. Gareth shrugged as well, feeling equally uncertain. After a few moments of awkward silence, the two turned their attention back to Caroline.

"It is good to see you, Caroline" Gareth spoke, his voice warm and rich, though to Kane it sounded like he was doing an overdone impression of a nobleman from a medieval fantasy film. "We have much work to do and we hope that you would be able to aid us."

The angelic woman's head bobbed. "I shall do everything within my power to make sure your will becomes reality, my lords," she swore solemnly. "If I need to vanquish a thousand foes, consider it done. If you need me to lay down my life for you, I shall do so without hesitation."

Gareth's eyes widened a little and he glanced nervously at Kane. Kane's eyebrows shot up. The vampire never really saw someone swear to take a bullet for another person so seriously and in person. If she was truly this serious then it's a very good idea for the both of them to tread carefully around her and watch they say. Judging from her tone and expression, she was a hundred percent being serious.

"There's no need for that," Kane spoke, trying to put on regal airs. "Your loyalty and your service shall suffice."

She nodded and looked up at the two. She gazed at Gareth and the vampire noticed the woman's cheeks turning rosy and her expression softened. When she looked at Kane, the dreamy look on her face was replaced by a solemn dutiful expression.

"_So far so good._" Kane thought, "_Maybe this will__ work out after all._"

"As Supervisor of the Bronze Ox Inn, what shall I do for you, my lords?" Caroline inquired.

"Arise," Gareth said, "You don't need to kneel. A simple bow or a curtsy will do."

The angelic woman thanked her maker and rose to her full height, which put her eye to eye with the bard that stood before her.

The brothers were silent. They wanted her to oversee and supervise the other NPCs and the inn while they explore this new world but they don't know how capable she truly was. Even if what they wrote came to be, Kane still wanted to see if she was an able leader and could protect the inn while they were gone.

As the two brothers tried thinking of a task to assign Caroline, a rather awkward silence began to develop between the three.

Gareth had his hands behind his back, twiddling his thumbs and trying not to meet Caroline's gaze. Meanwhile, Kane looked about, trying to come up with an order. Caroline stood before them, regal looking and hands clasped together in front of her, her eyes fixated on Gareth.

His mind blank, Kane was about to order the NPC to help them clean up Gareth's items, which were currently occupying three couches, when a series of heavy footsteps thumped up the stairs.

Judging from the scent of mead, sweat and metal, the vampire new who it was. He did his best to not look relieved by this incoming interruption.

Osric Gomrael, the dwarf chef and head of the fortification construction efforts, appeared at the top of the stairs. He walked toward the two brothers but paused at the sight of Caroline. The dwarf grew tense, as he looked at the tall slender woman. Confusion and uncertainty were plain on his face. However, Kane noticed the dwarf's expression lost all confusion, slowly shifting to a blank hazy look, before finally settling on recognition. The dwarf's body became less tense.

"Gomrael," Gareth said, noting the dwarf's presence "May I introduce you to-"

"Lady Caroline!" The dwarf said, cheerfully. A wide smile appeared on his hairy face. "I had a feeling that you'd be up here"

Gareth and Kane shot each other confused looks.

"Ah Gomrael, it is good to see you" Caroline said casually, as if speaking to an old friend. "What is it you want? Lords Gareth and Kane were about to give me a new task."

"Forgive me, but I wish to report in on the progress of our fortifications," he said.

"How goes it?" The bard asked, feeling very confused and creeped out.

"It goes well, sir," the dwarf answered proudly "If all goes as it should, we shall be done by tomorrow afternoon."

Before either Gareth or Kane could reply, Caroline let out a disapproving snort. The two glanced at each other then to the angelic woman, whose brows were knitted together in a scowl.

"Something on your mind, Caroline?" Gareth asked.

"Forgive me, my lord," she said, lowering her head. "I don't wish to be rude or belittle the efforts of Gomrael or my other subordinates, but I think it prudent that the fortifications be completed by tonight. I know that our staff is fully capable of completing the task within this timeframe and are willing."

Gareth hesitated. The bard had wanted to have the NPCs pace themselves so that they don't overwork themselves. But when the bard turned to the dwarf, Gomrael nodded.

"We can finish it up by tonight, if that's what you wish," the dwarf said sincerely, looking a little bashful.

"Are you certain?" Kane asked, a frown appearing on his face. "Don't you have…other duties to attend to? You and the others have worked so hard this week and have done so much already, perhaps you would like to rest."

Shock flickered across the dwarf's expression and he shook his head quickly. "Oh no, no! We are not in the least bit tired, Lord Kane. It is as Lady Caroline always tells us: '_we shall never falter nor fail in our duty and devotion to the Supreme Beings._' Whatever it may be my lords we'll carry it out to the letter, giving it our all. You need only say the word."

Silence fell on the sitting area once more as Kane considered the dwarf's words. After a moment of considering, the vampire nodded reluctantly. "Very well then," he said, standing a little taller "Carry on with the fortifications and please ensure that you give our thanks to the rest of the crew."

Gomrael's expression seemed to glow. "No need sir," he said with a wide smile "It is an honor and a privilege to serve the Supreme Beings. Serving you both is reward enough."

On the outside, Kane smiled but internally, the vampire was unsettled by the fanatical zeal that was apparent in the dwarf's gaze and in his voice. He worried that if he ordered Gomrael to kill a hundred children, or make an off color joke about such a topic, the dwarf would do so with an honest to God smile on his lips. They had to find a way to deal with this, otherwise the NPCs might do something very regretful.

"_One problem at a time,_" Kane thought wearily.

The dwarf bowed low and respectfully before he marched off to enact their orders. Caroline, meanwhile, was still waiting for hers.

Gareth, having finally got an idea, cleared his throat and gave his order to Caroline.

"I want you to oversee the final stages of the fortifications and ensure that they are done on schedule," the bard told the newly created NPC. "They need to be able to protect the clearing and the inn from possible invaders."

"Fret not Lord Gareth," Caroline said with a toothy grin. Her eyes bore into her lord's own eyes. "I shall see to it that this inn shall be impenetrable."

"Good," Gareth said with a nod, trying his best not to stare too deeply into the lovely woman's eyes.

The fair-haired woman curtseyed and glided to the stairs.

Before departing, she turned to Gareth one last time and said, her voice soft and honey sweet. "If you have need of me, please do not hesitate to call upon me, Lord Gareth."

Gareth blinked, his cheeks growing warm. "I-I'll do that" he managed to say.

Caroline let out a light, melodic giggle and departed.

* * *

Once they heard the distant sound of the inn's front door close, the two brothers relaxed, letting out sighs of relief.

"That could've gone better," Gareth said, wiping some sweat from his brow.

"It could've been a hell of a lot worse, that's for sure," Kane pointed out as he made his concealed weapon vanish in a puff of black smoke.

"A-are we overworking them?" the bard asked as he began pacing by their table "Do we have to worry about them trying to kill us in our sleep for overworking them."

"I tried to get them to slow down and take a break yesterday but they seem to take that as an insult to their honor. So, I think it might be best to keep them busy."

"And what was that?" Gareth asked, gesturing toward the stairs.

"What's what?"

"You know, '_please call upon me_' and all those weird looks, I mean what was all that about?"

Kane grinned, "I think someone's got a crush on you."

Gareth's face flushed. "W-why would she? What was it that you wrote in those 'finishing touches' you added on at the last minute?"

"Nothing, just a little spiel about how she's loyal to me out of a strong sense of duty, and to you out of…" Realization dawned on the vampire. "…a deep sense of admiration and affection. Aw shit."

The bard's eyes bulged. "You did what? Oh no. That's just…wrong. She's not a character on a screen anymore. She's a living breathing person. She is a person with a hell of a lot of firepower, may I remind you, and you just made her fall in love with me. I'm not looking to get involved in a _Fatal Attraction _sort of situation."

Horror filled the vampire's face. "Oh shit," he breathed, realizing the gravity of his mistake. "I-I was only trying to ensure that she stayed loyal to us. I didn't really think that 'admiration and affection' would translate into this! No, no, there's no need to panic. There's no way she'd hurt you. You're both angels and she seems to all gaga around you. If anything, she's more than likely to try to kill me than you."

"Maybe she won't do anything but…we can't say anything for sure. Remember what she said about us ordering her to kill a thousand foes and how she'll do it without question."

"Which is probably why we should probably follow through with our little excursion." The vampire assassin said, scratching his chin.

"What if they go ballistic and try to keep us from leaving?" Gareth reasoned. "Remember, on day one and how they said they were glad to have me back after being gone so long?"

"I know, but we're like gods to these guys. I doubt they'll do anything to hurt or impede us. Besides, we'll just say that we're doing recon and will be back in a few days. I'm fast as shit and you have the **[Gate]** spell. We'll just pop out for a bit, explore, get some space and fresh air, and be back before they get stir crazy."

Gareth gave his brother a look but considered his plan. After a few moments, the bard threw up his hands and said "Fine!"

The handsome bard flopped face down on the couch and let out a heavy sigh. Burying his face in the soft leather of the seat cushions, Gareth muffled out the words "I need a vacation."

To which Kane wholeheartedly agreed.

* * *

**(a/n: Well, what do you think? Again, sorry for the wait and for a slightly shorter and slow chapter. Last chapter was a little interlude/diversion that show other parts of the New World and characters who will become more prominent later on. Don't worry, those chapters won't be a common occurrence. From here on out, we're following these two guys. Until next time, see you around!)**


	5. Dancing with a Stranger

**(a/n: Here you go, a long new chapter. I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think.)**

* * *

Ch.5: Dancing with a Stranger

Night had fallen over the forest the same as it always did for the last week or so: quiet and without a fuss. The sky lost the remaining light of dusk, turning from pink and a deep burnt orange, to a dark blue, almost black, color. Stars had already appeared alongside a crescent moon as Gareth stepped out the front door.

The bard breathed in the cool night air. He stretched a little, trying his best to take his mind off of his nervousness. Adjusting his feathered cap, the bard looked about and admired the recently completed fortifications. Surrounding the clearing in which the _Bronze Ox_ inn and all its attending structures were tall palisades of wood and earth. Beyond those walls were spike filled trenches and a few layers of traps scattered about in the forest, which would ensnare any potential enemies and alert them to their presence. After reviewing and inspecting the recently completed fortifications, Gareth was satisfied with what Osric and the elves had wrought.

However, despite the overall quality of these new walls and trenches, the bard couldn't help but feel a little bit paranoid. What if they do encounter other people and they prove to be hostile? Their defenses could probably deter a small force, but Gareth wasn't sure if it could withstand a large army, heavily armed with siege weapons or worse, magic. There was also the issue of the walls being made of wood. Gareth, his brother, and Osric discussed at length some ideas of a stronger and more permanent option, though those plans were to be discussed further once the brothers returned from their little outing.

While the bard had grown to trust Caroline in the last two days, he would feel more comfortable if he were there personally to oversee things and help out. Gareth tugged his sleeve up a little in order to glance at his wrist to check the time, but stopped when he remembered that he no longer had a watch. He absentmindedly rubbed his wrist, which felt strangely naked and lighter without the little timepiece.

Everyday for almost a decade Gareth would keep to a strict schedule that centered on work. He'd be up early in the morning, getting ready and having a quick breakfast before making his way to the office. The blond could envision the well-beaten path he'd take to work. Setting out from his sparsely furnished and lonesome apartment, heading directly to the underground subway and getting off at the station that was a short walk away from the office. Once there, he'd weave his way through the maze of cubicles and desks until he reached his little workspace. Tucked away in the far corner, hidden among numerous other desks and cubicles, the bard would settle in and get to work.

Occasionally, throughout the monotonous workday, Gareth would glance at his watch and count down to lunch and then to the end of the workday. Day in and day out, this routine had been his life. At home, he'd log on to Yggdrasil or, rarely, another game. After being banished from the Emerald Legion, Gareth began spending his free time watching old movies and TV shows available online or reading a book until he worked up the energy to make dinner.

It was surreal. Over a week ago, he was watching old action films alone, wearing only a t-shirt and shorts, eating some store bought noodles and drinking some diet soda.

But now that he was in this new world, Gareth was literally a different man. He was taller, blond, and better looking. He was currently dressed like he was going to a fantasy convention or a Renaissance festival. The bard wore a dark green cloak over an orange doublet, chainmail and a white shirt. At his side hung his trusty silver longsword, _Nightbane_, in its sheath. Although he never held or used a sword in real life, there was a sense of familiarity with this weapon. When Gareth picked it up and decided to use it on their journey, the bard felt like he was greeting an old friend. It was the same with every weapon he pulled from his storage chest. No matter which one, the grip and the weight of each dagger, sword and spear felt unusually familiar. He related this feeling to Kane as they planned their trip, sorting through their items and packing what they needed.

The vampire shared similar thoughts he had and theorized that it must be their new bodies, their in-game characters. They've played as a bard and as an assassin for almost a decade and with their avatars brought to life, those experiences must've been made real as well. This worried Gareth a little and made him wonder aloud if this means that their memories and experiences may slowly erode and be replaced by something else. Kane shivered at the thought.

After some philosophical musings on the horrific potential of their memories relating to their former lives being overridden and forgotten, the two refocused on the trip.

This trip was important. They're in a new world, and heaven knows what they might encounter. They may even encounter new people. Would they be human? How advanced would they be? So many questions and possibilities, it can drive a man to insanity. Whatever they may face, Gareth and Kane both settled on a simple and effective strategy. If there were people, and if they were ordinary humans, they needed to lay low. Since their abilities are real, they need to be able to blend in and hide their strengths. They needed to stay out of the spotlight and not draw any unwanted attention. With no regular clothes and modern weapons, the two decided to gear up as their characters.

After some careful consideration about their journey, Gareth decided to go for a plain, yet sturdy weapon: a high quality steel long sword. Much like its siblings, the blade felt he was holding a familiar old tool that he had been using for years. A couple of test swings later, and the bard felt as though he were complete again, as if some missing piece finally clicked into place.

Gareth adjusted his cloak a little, still trying to adjust to wearing medieval fantasy clothing. This radical change in his life, while extraordinary and life altering, it wasn't altogether unpleasant. The bard's ordinary life was slow, boring, monotonous and rather sad. He'd work, eat, sleep, and retreat to the digital world of Yggdrasil and the Internet. Not exactly the life he'd wanted, but it was something. He had order and a routine. But with those gone, Gareth wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to do now. For the first day or so, he tried to busy himself with helping in the fortification construction efforts and the kitchens.

This didn't work.

When the bard tried to lend a hand, the elves and Osric got frantic, thanking him profusely and pleaded that he would allow them to do their "duty." He reluctantly left them to their duty and sought other things to keep himself busy. Fortunately, Kane was there and had dragged him off a short distance into the woods to test their new abilities.

Gareth's thoughts were interrupted when he heard the door behind him open. Out stepped his brother, Kane. The vampire was dressed in his black cloak, which covered him from the throat to his knees. His long black hair was done up in a knot, keeping his face free of any obstructions.

The bard looked his brother up and down. "Ready?"

Kane opened his cloak, revealing twin short swords with long curved blades, dangling on either side of his waist in their dark leather and wood scabbards. The bard recognized his brother's favorite weapons, the twin short swords he dubbed _Reaper's Talons_.

During the course of their training sessions, the vampire had gotten reacquainted with his old weapons and practiced with them. In a matter of minutes, the vampire went from slow and hesitant movements to the quick and fluid motions of an adept assassin.

The bard also discovered his own talent with a bladed weapon. Like Kane, his movements were slow and awkward but then, as his brother progressed during their clumsy sparring session, so did he. Gareth was able to match and counter Kane's fluid grace with his own. This clash of blades went on for several minutes before the two managed to come to a standstill, with their respective blades leveled at the other's throat. Neither were certain how they got to that point but they decided to call it a day, just in case either one or both of them got badly hurt.

As Kane adjusted his cloak and the bracers on his forearms, Gareth noticed the basketball sized brown bag with drawstrings slung over his brother's shoulder. The bard made sure that he had his own and felt reassured. It would've been embarrassing to set out on a trip without his Bag of Holding, which was carrying some crucial supplies.

"Ready as I'll ever be." The vampire said with a giddy smile.

The two left the inn, working their way down the path toward the newly completed front gate. As they walked toward the lone entrance that waited them down hill, the bard noticed some of the elves walking along the walls close by, keeping a vigilant watch on the dark forest beyond. Though they were dressed like maids and appeared to be small elves with no combat experience, Gareth knew that at least half of the dozen elves at the Bronze Ox could more than handle themselves in battle.

Rina, for example, was more than just another maid who worked in the kitchens. The green haired timid elf that couldn't look Kane in the eye was a fairly high-leveled Ranger. Her connection with nature and her skills with a bow made her a force to be reckoned with, which was how they attained a steady supply of meat and blood. There was also Astril, a tall, auburn haired elf that tended to the pigs and the chickens kept behind the inn. She proved herself to be a very competent fighter when, according to reports after the fact, a large wolf tried to attack her, the young elf tore it to pieces. Needless to say, if there ever was an attack, Caroline and the elves won't make it easy on their attackers.

Closer to the gate, Gareth spied Osric's brother, the stable master Randor, standing beside Lydia. The two were standing in front of Caroline and Osric, talking about something in soft voices. The dwarf was the same height as his brother and just as solid. While Osric was bald and had a wild ginger beard, Randor had flowing raven locks and a well-kept black beard.

As they got closer, Caroline and Osric acknowledged their approach and bowed.

"Oh no…" Kane murmured.

Gareth glanced at his brother and looked back toward the gathering before them. In the faint moonlight, the bard could see that both Lydia and Randor were lugging packs and wore matching brown cloaks. Underneath the cloaks, the bard could see that the two were dressed for travel and battle. The raven-haired dwarf was dressed in a shiny breastplate and mail, his hands clad in thick gloves. Strapped to his back was a heavy looking two-headed battle axe, sharpened, cleaned and looked ready to be buried in an enemy's skull.

On top of a rather plain looking grey dress, Lydia was encased in a set of leather armor, complete with studded bracers, shin guards and fingerless gloves. Though she didn't look like she could endure a hail of arrows or swords, the silver haired elf's armor suited her. Her skills and her class required her to be lightly armored for speed and mobility. Lydia was a high level fighter and a monk, probably one of the highest leveled elves in the Inn.

Both Gareth and Kane were surprised by her class, her levels and her skills when they reviewed the NPC stats menu. As to why Lydia, let alone the other elves in an inn, would need such levels and skills, neither of the brothers could guess. But, after some consideration, Gareth suggested that they lucked out and that Lydia's tragic backstory may have had a hand in it.

When Gareth and Kane reached the assembled NPCs at the front gate, the bard and the vampire decided to play stupid.

"What's all this, then?" Gareth asked, his voice soft but regal.

"My Lord Gareth," Caroline replied, curtseying. "Forgive us, I know you made it abundantly clear that you and your brother were to go alone but…" the angelic woman trailed off, but Osric picked up for her.

"We just felt that it would be improper to leave you both unprotected." The dwarven chef said in a steady and humble tone.

"You think us defenseless?" Kane asked, his voice was soft but it made the former NPCs rigid.

"N-Not at all, my lords." Osric sputtered. "It's just-it's just-"

"We couldn't bear it if any harm were to befall you both." Lydia spoke up, meekly. "It is our sacred duty, our very purpose in life, is to protect and serve you both. If anything were to happen to you and we weren't there…" The silver haired elf fell silent, but neither the angelic bard nor the vampiric assassin needed her to finish that sentence. They both caught her meaning.

Gareth glanced at his brother. Kane merely glanced back at him and they both returned their gazes back to their NPCs, who at this point were bowing low, their faces toward the ground. Although they wanted this trip to be private and relaxing, Gareth decided to acquiesce.

"Very well, then." Gareth said at last, keeping his voice formal. "You may accompany us."

Caroline, Osric, Randor, and Lydia all looked relieved and deeply pleased.

"However," Kane added, his voice a low growl. "You must obey our orders without question. It is important that we all work as one. Understand?"

"Yes, my lord!" Randor and Lydia answered at once.

"Good!" Gareth laughed, clapping his hands together. "Very good! Now, off we go then!"

Caroline nodded, and with the snap of her fingers, the tall, thick gates creaked open. Beyond the threshold, Gareth and Kane peered out onto the new world. In the faint moonlight, they could see the small path their elves made, some clear space between their makeshift fortress, and the forest beyond.

Kane moved to exit through the gate, but Randor held up a hand.

"A-allow me, my liege." The dwarf said, his voice was deep but soft like velvet.

The vampire sighed, and gestured for the dwarf to proceed.

Randor bowed humbly and pulled his axe free from its place on his back. The raven haired dwarf proceeded, stepping carefully across the threshold. Lydia followed suit, raising her hands in a type of fighter's stance and scanned the dark forest beyond. After a few uneventful moments, Randor and Lydia looked back at their lords.

"It's safe, my lords!" Randor informed the two proudly.

**["I could've told him that."]** Kane grumbled in Gareth's head, using the **[Message]** function. **[I mean, I'm the one with night vision and super hearing.]**

**["Shh."]** Gareth replied in his mind, throwing a look at his brother. **["They're only trying to help."]**

Kane scowled. **["This is going to be a long-ass vacation."]** he complained as he stepped through the gate and joined Randor and Lydia. Gareth moved to follow, but Caroline grabbed his arm.

"My lord." she said softly. Gareth felt his heart stop. He remembered that Kane had made some unnecessary changes to Caroline's backstory and character traits as a joke. Unfortunately, when Caroline spawned into this New World, it made them very real. The joke was that Caroline harbored affections for Gareth, which meant that she'd treat him like he was the embodiment of perfection. She'd give him these dreamy looks and pay very close attention to him whenever he spoke. Hell, she even helped Osric prepare his breakfast that morning, hoping to, in her words, "Brighten his day."

Gareth wasn't completely hopeless in talking to women, let alone people. Sure, he was shy and mostly kept to himself, but he learned how to interact and socialize on Yggdrasil, making friends both male and female. However, with Caroline, she was different. She was stunning and could light up a room with her presence, not with just her personality, but with her passive abilities as an angel. As beings of celestial origins, angels like Gareth and Caroline had passive abilities that really benefit the world around them. One such ability was essentially a mood booster that made everything light, calm, and even cheerful. In the game, it helped up some minor stats and provided some measure of protection. In this New World, the room literally lights up, and both brothers could feel the different environment. Osric and the others all just seem to cheer up and go about their day with vigor and energy.

There was also the fact that Caroline was perhaps _the _most powerful NPC at the inn, outclassing Osric, Neremyn, and Lydia by a country mile. There was the fear that, if Caroline snapped or if they did anything that might upset her, she might go ballistic and if she went ballistic, both brothers might get seriously hurt.

Gareth swallowed hard and turned to Caroline. The white haired angel gazed into his eyes with twinkling, hopeful sapphires, which made the bard weak in the knees.

"Y-Yes?" Gareth said, slowly forcing the words out of his mouth.

"Please be careful." She asked, her eyes wide and pleading. "And please return to us."

"I-uh-We certainly will return and we'll return with information on the outside world" Gareth promised, finishing with an award winning smile.

Relief washed away the concern and worry on her face. Caroline smiled.

"Good luck, my lord." She smiled warmly. "And safe travels."

The angel released Gareth's arm from her gentle grip. Gareth tipped his cap to her and strolled out through the gates.

Outside, he turned and took one last look at the inn and Caroline. The tall, white haired angel stood there with the bald dwarf at her side. With a wave of her hand, Caroline bid them farewell, and the gates slowly creaked shut.

Although Gareth was unsure about Caroline, he felt as though he could trust her in this instance to keep the inn safe and protected. The bard turned to his brother and their companions. Behind them lay the dark and unknown of the forest.

They had conducted some minor preliminary surveys and journeys into the forest but didn't get very far. From Kane's initial view of the woods, from his accidental super jump, he had spied a long, winding dirt road just beyond the trees. With the road in mind, the brothers had their starting point.

After adjusting his cap and his emerald cloak, Gareth nodded to the wall of nature before them. "Right," he said with a sigh. "Let's crack on!"

Kane rolled his eyes, knowing that Gareth got that from an old British film, but Lydia and Rando nodded with the solemnity of a pair of novices toward a seasoned explorer who knows what he's doing. Thus, the party of the Bronze Ox Inn set off, delving into the dark and silent woods.

* * *

After what felt like an hour, the angelic bard, the vampire, the dwarf and the elf emerged from the dark tangle of the forest. Gareth carefully brushed off some leaves and removed some insects from his cloak, while Kane stuffed some into his mouth to, in his words over **[Message]**, to experiment and see if he could sate his bloodthirst with bugs. Judging from the look on his face, the bard assumed that his peculiar little experiment didn't yield the results that he had hoped.

Looking about, Gareth and the rest of his party found themselves in a wide open field. Behind them, the forest stretched on for as far as the eye could see in either direction. Before them were corpses of trees and, just as they had hoped, the dirt road.

After Randor and Lydia stepped onto the well-beaten track of earth and rock that cut its way through the green grass, Gareth and Kane inspected it for themselves. The dirt road was just that, a dirt road. It was wide and rather flat. There were some wheel ruts and faint animal prints in the dirt, but other than that, it was just a simple dirt road one would find. Although Lydia and Rando were tense and looked like they were expecting an ambush, Gareth and Kane were interested in the road and in the landscape they were currently in.

Neither of the brothers had ever left the confines of their home city, or even of the city in which they lived in. Although there were national parks and other stretches of nature that the government went to great lengths to preserve and protect for themselves and for their citizens, neither of the two really went beyond.

They grew up hearing stories and watching shows about people going out into nature, getting away from city life and civilization. From the few people they both knew who did, those people did feel the same as people did way back in the day, but they always mentioned this omnipresent feeling of civilization lurking close by, almost as if they really weren't out in nature. But here, Gareth and Kane both felt like castaways in an endless sea of green.

For miles, Kane could hear nothing but the sound of bugs and the various little woodland animals. He could smell nothing but the rich, overpowering aroma of flowers, trees, and dirt. It was overwhelming and all consuming. While strange, it was invigorating to the two brothers.

"My lords?" Randor spoke up.

The two snapped out of their respective reveries and looked to Randor. The raven haired dwarf looked to them expectantly.

"Into which direction shall we proceed?" the dwarf asked.

Kane's ruby eyes flicked to Gareth, who turned his head slowly in order to look in both directions. The road seemed to go on for miles with nothing but nature in sight. Keeping the inn at his back, the angelic bard pondered. Where shall they go? After some brief but careful deliberation, involving a mental round of eeny, meeny, miny, moe, Gareth came to a decision.

"We shall proceed… that way." The bard declared, pointing to the left.

Kane, Randor, and Lydia gazed in the direction in which Gareth's finger pointed.

Randor nodded. "Very well then!"

Lydia smiled. "Excellent choice!"

The two set off ahead in order to check for traps or trigger any ambush. Meanwhile, Kane glanced at his brother.

**["I don't see anything."]** The vampire informed him over **[Message].** **["Still, doesn't mean there's nothing, but who knows? Maybe we'll find a 7-11."]**

"Whatever." Gareth murmured, and the two brothers set off after their NPC companions.

* * *

Kane let out a long, drawn out sigh. Though he was initially excited with exploring this new world, the vampire quickly grew bored. Before, he naively believed that this little trip was going to be interesting, a change of scenery with a side order of action and discovery. Unfortunately, he came to discover something that the fantasy movies and books tend to leave out: the long, mind-numbing journey. Within the first half hour of the journey, Kane wished that they brought their mounts. Sure, they _could_ just summon them anywhere and anytime (with a few possible exceptions), But unfortunately, Gareth had discouraged that idea, in the event they _do_ run into new people.

Kane reluctantly agreed. From the brief period of time they spent with their now real mounts, the vampire knew right off the bat that they wouldn't be leaving a good first impression if they showed up on a haughty hippogriff and an anti-social vampire wolf. Those two fantasy animals were huge and were very temperamental, at least to anyone whose not them. Gareth's hippogriff, Proudwing, was just as his name suggested. The large half eagle, half horse creature exuded arrogance. There were very few who could approach the creature, including Gareth, Randor, and, surprisingly, Caroline. The few times he'd been around Proudwing, Kane noticed how the hippogriff stood tall and kept its head high, almost as if it knew that it was better than everyone. Kane's mount, Loki, was not any better. The large, war horse-sized vampire-wolf snarled and snapped at anyone who dared to approach him, if he didn't want them. It took some time and near injuries but the wolf warmed up to Randor and some of the elves at the inn. Strangely, he took a liking to Caroline instantly, but that was probably because of her unnatural angelic aura. To put those two ill-mannered animals near strange people would likely result in a bloodbath.

The vampire adjusted his cloak and stretched his arms, causing his joints to pop. He tried sleeping on one of the beds they had back at the inn, but couldn't get any sleep. Gareth had suggested that he try sleeping in a confined, coffin-like space, since he was a vampire. Osric made him a makeshift coffin and Kane gave it a shot. He ended up getting the best night's sleep he's had since ever, even though it was cramped as hell.

Kane let his arms dangle and swing lazily at his side as he trudged alongside his brother. The dark and silent countryside was devoid of streetlights and any form of civilization. High in the sky a half moon shone like a broken pearl. To the ordinary observer, it was dark and silent. But to Kane the vampire, it was alive with sound and activity, and the darkness did little to hide the landscape around them, even as the road led them through some dense greenery.

The low, buzzing music of nocturnal insects hummed all around them. A short distance away from the road, Kane spied a small, furry shape dart between the bushes. Probably a rabbit, judging from the speed and shape of it. His ruby eyes wandered, trying to find something to take his mind off of his growing boredom, Kane found nothing. Except…

The vampire frowned, pausing abruptly. He squinted, focusing on a patch of forest. A wall of trees and bushes stood, obscuring something vaguely humanoid. It was a rather strange sight. He didn't have X-ray vision or anything, but he could see a sort of green glowing aura among the trees. At first he didn't think much of it, maybe he was just seeing things but that theory went out the window when he heard some whispers and metallic clinks. The vampire tensed and focused on the aura. Kane took a deep breath, and he caught a strong whiff of horse and metal.

"Hey." Gareth suddenly said.

Kane blinked, and looked at his brother. Gareth, Lydia, and Randor had all stopped, with the two NPCs a little further up the road than them and Gareth only a few feet away.

"Something wrong?" The bard asked, a concerned look on his face.

"Probably." Kane said in a low voice, trying not to be heard.

Gareth raised an eyebrow. Kane nodded toward the aura soaked forest ahead and to the right of them. "You see that?" the vampire asked.

The bard followed his brother's gaze and squinted. "I don't see anything," Gareth informed him with a shrug.

"Try your magic eyes," Kane urged.

Gareth murmured something under his breath and looked again. This time the blond angel's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh!" the blond exclaimed, before quickly covering his mouth. His other hand slid to the sword at his side. Gareth waved Lydia and Randor over, and mouthed at them to tread softly. The two complied and hurried back to their side.

"What is it, my lords?" Randor asked, his brows furrowed and his voice tense.

"We may have some uninvited guests," Gareth answered softly.

The dwarf went rigid, and anger entered his stony face. He hefted his axe and growled in a barely restrained tone. "Show them to me my lord, and I'll dispatch them at once! I will cut them down in your honor, sir!"

Kane waved a hand, signaling the dwarf to keep his voice down. The dwarf nodded and went quiet, though the vampire could see that he was still visibly trembling with anger, probably from not seeing this hidden ambush first. The NPCs at the Inn practically worshiped Gareth and Kane. It was cool at first, but after a while, their love and adoration became very unnerving. Any time that one of them felt like they had failed them, the NPCs apologized profusely, swore to do better or offered to take their own life as a way of making up for their failure.

Lydia looked just as outraged as her comrade, but she was better at keeping her anger hidden. A cold look was fixed on her face, and her slender fingers were clenched into a tight fist.

"What shall we do, my lords?" the silver haired elf asked. "Give us the command, and we shall obey."

Kane stroked his chin, trying hastily to come up with a plan. There was an ambush waiting for them up ahead, and neither he or Gareth had any real experience in combat. Sure, they had these awesome powers, but they didn't want to kill anyone. They just wanted to explore a bit and see if they can learn anything about where they were, or how they got there. There was also the possibility of dying. Kane wasn't keen on dying. He was a vampire, yes, but what if these guys were vampire hunters? How strong were they, and how many were there? Did the people of this world have it out for vampires? So many things to consider that it made his head spin.

The vampire assassin shook his head free of these distracting thoughts and focused. They had to do something and fast. Suddenly, it clicked.

Kane looked to his brother. "Do you have any of your instruments?" the vampire asked.

"Indeed I do!" Gareth said with a smile and produced his trusty lute. "Why?"

The vampire took a deep, reluctant breath. "Because I...have a plan."

* * *

Being a bandit was boring at times, as Royce had figured out a long time ago. Although he preferred actions, usually scenarios involving wine, women, and fighting, the bandit leader was still content as a man of his position could be.

Still, this night was sure a quiet one so far.

Earlier that day, his boss had told them of a new job. Sounded simple; they had to look out for a certain cart, driven by a certain young woman, and they just swoop in and snatch her. The only problem was that this particular person of interest was guarded by a party of Adventurers, though the word "problem" might be too strong of a word to use for these Adventurers. Inconvenience would be a more appropriate term.

The lanky man smirked to himself. The seasoned outlaw was currently surrounded by four other men, all larger than him, and were dressed in dirty brown clothes that hid their shiny breastplates and freshly oiled mail shirts. Though they didn't look the part, each man was a hardened killer, and experienced in the art of death. A few were even former adventurers who had left the guild (some not of their own volition), and had turned to banditry to keep food in their mouths, now that the ruler of this country soured on the idea of Adventurers.

Adventurers were tough, but if the boss's information was correct (and it always is), then their target was guarded by a measly Iron-ranked party. If it were Gold or something a little more substantial, then they'd actually have a reason to worry. When the girl in question and her escorts trundled by, Royce's suspicions were confirmed. Easy prey.

Royce leaned back in his saddle, trying to relax as he and his comrades settled in for the night. His horse snorted and shook its head, but remained calm and still. The lanky man pulled his water skin from off his back and uncorked it. He sniffed it, and sighed with pleasure. Arventian Sweet Red, the finest red wine that money can buy in the Empire and the Kingdom. A wine so expensive and sweet that it was to die for. And a man did die for the cask this particular wine was drawn from. A plump, impudent merchant was transporting this sweet elixir across the border, and Royce and his fellows decided to take it off his hands for him for free!

He sipped the wine, savored its rich flavor, and gulped it down. Royce shook his head slowly. It wasn't fair that men like him had to scrounge and fight tooth and nail for scraps, but snotty brats like that damn Bloody Emperor and that whiny pudgy merchant had it all. But that didn't matter. Royce was his own man and he could take what he wanted, when he wanted. After tonight, the boss and the rest of their group, Royce included, were going to get a hefty payday. All Royce had to do was to sit tight and guard the rear, ensure that nobody interfered as the boss took care of those Adventurers and snatched the girl.

As the bandits waited in relative silence, shielded by the darkness of the forest and by Pef's cloaking spell, a soft, sweet song drifted on the wind and into their ears.

"_...walkin' through the forest, Laughin' back and forth at what the other'ne has to say, Reminiscin', this-'n'-thattin' havin' such a good time…"_

Royce frowned and lowered his water skin. Though barely affected by the rich wine, the bandit was unsure what he was hearing. He looked to his second in command, a large, burly man named Bezin, and saw that he was equally confused. The rest of the bandits were now on alert and were as perplexed as their leaders.

The lanky outlaw looked toward the road that snaked through the forest and saw, as the song grew louder and closer, two shadows stepped into view. Royce rubbed his eyes and leaned forward. Down on the road, the two figures were not what the outlaw had expected. One was tall, handsome and wore a cloak that nearly made him fade into the dark, green surroundings. Sitting on his head at an angle was a cap with a black and gold feather. The other figure was short and stocky, clad in a brown cloak. Though this figure wore a hood, Royce's keen eyes spied a long black beard, reaching down the figure's chest.

_A Dwarf?_ the outlaw mused.

While all human nations had a strict policy against Demi-Humans and the like, dwarves were a special case. In the Empire, they had legal rights and were lucrative trading partners, trading their finely crafted weapons and armor for military aid and various supplies in their ongoing quest to retake their homeland in the Azerlisia Mountains.

Wheels began to turn in Royce's head. They couldn't grab a dwarf and sell 'em on the market or to Eight Fingers, otherwise they'd face the wrath of both the Emperor and the Dwarves, and no man is stupid enough to face those odds. However, they can't afford to let a lone dwarf slip through their midst. But then again, their job was to prevent anyone from escaping the boss up ahead and any possible threats from interfering.

As the lanky outlaw pondered the opportunity before him, his compatriots were struggling to grasp what they were seeing.

"What the hell?" Bezin rumbled, his eyes narrowing. "Music?"

"What do you think?" Pef, the group's resident magic caster, asked. "Should we dispose of them?"

"I suppose so," Royce grumbled, upset by having to work after finally getting a moment of peace. "Come on, then."

The lanky outlaw corked his drink and he spurred his horse forward to confront these interlopers. He scowled as his horse emerged from the trees and away from the safety of Pef's **[Dome of Shadows]**. With his mood soured, Royce hoped to get this over with so that he could go back to drinking his pilfered wine. A pleasant thought came to his head, which seemed to temper his anger a little. Maybe these intruders are carrying some valuables, hopefully something shiny and expensive.

In a matter of seconds, Royce, along with Pef and Bezin and two other men reached the road and blocked the way forward.

The lanky outlaw drew his sword and declared in a commanding voice. "Halt!"

The two figures came to a slow stop. The tall, handsome one was strumming a lute, which was now slower and softer. His sweet, clear voice came to a natural sounding finish. "_Oo-de-lally, oo-delally, golly, what a day_!" The figure ended on a flourish and paused, almost expecting an applause. Silence greeted his finale.

Upon closer inspection, Royce saw that the man with the lute was indeed handsome and strongly reminded him of a nobleman, only his clothes seemed very plain and worn. The man's companion remained a mystery, their face was covered by a deep hood, obscuring their features.

In the faint moonlight streaming through the opening in the canopy of trees above, the man flashed them a perfect, toothy smile and doffed his feathered cap, revealing long, flowing blond locks. "Evening gentlemen!" he greeted cheerfully. "How may I help you?"

"I'm afraid it's not a good evening." Royce sneered. "In fact, this is not your night. You see, you hand over all your valuables and we'll spare your life...maybe."

Royce's compatriots chuckled, knowing that they were going to gut these unfortunate souls anyway. They brandished their weapons and moved to surround the two, preventing them from escaping.

The man with the lute blinked, his smile wavered. He looked about him at the outlaws circling him like hungry dogs. "Oh dear," the man said in an unusually calm tone. "I see. This is what the kids call a 'shakedown' is it?"

"What?" Bezin scowled.

"Never mind," the man said, smoothing his hair back and returning his cap to its place. He clapped his hands together. "Well, I love to help you lovely lads out but, I'm afraid that I'm penniless."

That drew some snickers and grumbles but the man continued.

"It's true! I'm as poor as a churchmouse. I have nothing but the clothes on my back, the meager supplies in my bag and my trusty lute."

"Come now," Royce jeered. "A handsome, talented singer like yourself must have some coin."

"Why, thank you for your kind words," the man said, putting a hand over his heart, as if touched by the mocking compliment. "But what I have told you is the truth. Now, could you possibly step aside and allow us to carry on our way? I promise that we won't tell a soul about this little...mishap."

The outlaws burst out laughing and Royce let out a chuckle himself, before stopping immediately. He felt a strange sensation overcome him, and suddenly he felt himself sheathing his sword and moving his horse out of the way. Slowly and painfully, words began to tumble out of his mouth, almost like something was forcing him to cough up the contents of his stomach.

"Of...course…" the lanky bandit said slowly. "Go...on. Have a...good night."

Royce's comrades stopped and looked at him in confusion. The lanky outlaw himself was bewildered but no matter how much he struggled, his body moved on its own accord. The outlaw felt himself nudge his horse into motion, and the horse moved aside, allowing a hole in the bandit's wall of bodies.

"Royce, what the hell are you doing?" Bezin growled, his hand reaching for his sword.

Royce gave Bezin a frightened and confused look, but was powerless to do much else. Fortunately, Pef seemed to have caught on. The shaggy haired mage jabbed a finger at the handsome musician. "He's put some sort of spell on Royce!" the mage cried out.

"What kind of spell?" Bezin demanded

"I-I don't know. He didn't utter any incantations!" Pef sputtered.

Bezin gritted his teeth and drew his sword. He aimed the sword at the blond man.

"Kill him!" the large bandit snarled.

One of the men, eager for battle and plunder, surged forward, raising a sword. In the blink of an eye, the hooded figure jumped into action.

The figure stepped into the man's path and, in a blur of motion, produced a fearsome battle axe from the folds of his cloak and swiped at the bandit's weapon. A loud ring of steel echoed through the woods, and the man came to an abrupt halt.

The man, along with Bezin and the other bandits, gazed in shock and awe at the outlaw's sword.

What was once a longsword, forged of castle steel and tested in countless battles, was shortened by half. The rest of the blade fell to the ground beside Bezin. The steel shard gleamed faintly in the moonlight.

The figure pulled back its hood, revealing a stony face with a deep, unyielding rage carved into its craggy features. The man with the broken sword stepped back, shocked and afraid.

"A-a dwarf" one of the men breathed.

Though Dwarves were well known in the nations of men, few have actually met one, outside of select Adventurers, diplomats and merchants. Aside from their skills as craftsmen and miners, dwarves were well known for their ferocity and their skill in battle. To face one in battle was a rare thing, and those who did rarely lived to tell the tale.

"You disgusting piece of filth," the dwarf growled, his voice was a low rumble, sounding like thunder. The air seemed to change as a hot, dangerous aura began to surround the dwarf like fire. "How dare you raise your weapon against my comrade!"

The unfortunate outlaw flinched. His broken weapon slipped from his fingers and backed away as the dwarf advanced on him, brandishing his large axe with two hands.

"Filth like you don't deserve mercy!" the dwarf roared. "You have forfeited your life!"

"No, please!" The man cried. The dwarf raised his axe to strike but a calm but firm voice sounded.

"Randor, stop!"

The dwarf halted and looked toward the blond man, who stood there with a placid look on his face. The man shook his head.

"He's not worth it."

The dwarf scowled but eventually nodded. He turned to the cowering bandit, who was backed up against a tree. The raven haired dwarf spat at the man's feet and growled, "Be grateful that Gareth Silvertongue has mercy and is forgiving. I, however, am not. Do not let me see your face ever again."

The trembling man nodded.

The dwarf Randor returned to his companion's side as the air seemed to shift once more, growing cool and gentle once more. The outlaws were astonished by the display. Royce was petrified. He had heard that dwarves were fierce but to see it first hand was something else. He looked toward the man - Gareth Silvertongue, was it?

It slowly began to dawn on Royce as to who the man truly was and what he was capable of. The attire, the instrument, Royce losing control of his body. There was no doubt about it, this man was a bard.

Royce had only seen a bard once, when he was a boy. When he was growing up in the distant village of Asen, he remembered how a bard had paid them a visit. The man wore brightly colored clothing and a constant smile. He played a silver flute with intricate designs of birds on it. The bard juggled and performed a number of flashy tricks. After telling some hilarious jokes and riddles, the bard concluded his visit with songs. He sang beautifully, recounting the story of the Thirteen Heroes, of heroic deeds and nefarious villains.

Bards, though storytellers by trade, were said to be like Adventurers. Powerful in their own right and deadly with magic and with swords. If this man was a bard, then the bandits may have chosen the wrong target.

When Randor the Dwarf rejoined his companion, Gareth sighed.

"Forgive my companion," the blond man said with a smile. "He's very protective and very passionate about his duty. Now, please let us pass. We'll forget all about this and-" The man's words were cut short by a blood curdling scream.

The hair on the back of Royce's neck jumped to attention. The other outlaws jumped in surprise and turned about, searching for the source of the sound. Royce felt sweat forming on his brow. That sounded like a woman's scream. For a moment, the lanky outlaw believed that it was the boss, returning with the girl they were hired to snatch. But that hope was dashed when he realized that the scream came from the other direction, away from where the boss and the girl was.

A moment of silence passed before another scream sounded, this time it was closer and sounded less...human.

The horses snorted and moved about in place, nervous. Bezin scowled and pulled at the reins, trying to maintain control. He stroked the nervous animal's neck and tried to calm her down, but it didn't appear to be working.

Royce looked toward Gareth, his smile faltered and a look of concern formed on his face.

"Oh no…" He heard the blond man murmur.

"W-What was that?" Pef demanded, trying to maintain his bravado but failed to keep the rising fear out of his voice.

"The devil at my back," Gareth answered cryptically. "You need to leave, _all_ of you need to leave. Now!"

"Oh please," Bezin snorted "It's a trick."

The blond shrugged. "Believe me, don't believe me, do what you want. I'm out of here before _he_ gets here!"

Gareth looked at Randor and motioned for him to follow. The two moved to pass through the gap between Bezin and Royce but the burly outlaw intercepted them.

"You're not going anywhere," the large man growled, leveling his sword to Gareth's head. Randor glared and looked ready to cleave the man and his steed in half, but Gareth placed a hand on his companion's shoulder.

"Either you're really brave or really stupid," Gareth said sharply, his expression was grim and serious. "Doesn't matter though, you'll be dead if you don't get you and your friends out of here. _He_ is coming."

"Who?" Bezin asked impatiently

"The vampire," the blond answered solemnly.

Gareth's words seem to cause the air to go still. Royce felt his blood turn to ice. All around him, he noticed that his comrades had similar reactions. Pef went very pale and the other outlaws, all battle hardened and experienced warriors, shared worried looks. Even Bezin seemed to pause at the man's words.

Vampires were powerful undead, said to roam the wastes and distant wilds of the world. Some skulk about in areas where great slaughter and death occurred. The _weakest_ vampires were difficult to kill, requiring Adventurers and clerics of Gold or Platinum-rank and above to even be considered a match against this unholy evil. The stronger ones, fortunately, were very rare, but were far deadlier. Long ago, there were a group of unimaginably powerful vampires who ruled the night: the Vampire Lords. A single Vampire Lord was enough to lay waste to an entire city, even an entire kingdom. Fortunately, they were hunted to extinction long ago by a band of legendary heroes.

Though the odds of running into a powerful vampire like that was slim, to run into any vampire was very unfortunate. If Gareth's words were true, then they need to get the hell out of here and quickly.

Royce looked to Bezin, who seemed to be considering Gareth's words. After a few, agonizingly long moments later, Bezin spoke.

"Let it come," the outlaw grunted.

Royce's eyes widened in shock.

"What?" Gareth asked, surprised by the man's response.

"Let the damn thing come," Bezin said with a grim smile. "We'll see what this...vampire really is. Probably an illusion spell? Or perhaps another companion? See, I know that you're a bard. I've met a number of them in my time, and very few are anything more than a bunch of show ponies who sing boring little songs about love."

The other outlaws seemed to take heart in this, some of them began to regain some color in their faces and began nodding in agreement.

Gareth seemed to take offense to this.

"I'll have you know that my songs are superior to anything those preening peacocks could ever sing," the bard sniffed. "In fact, the reason why I was singing in the first place was to mask our trail. A little ability called **[Spellsong]**, perhaps you've heard of it? Since you stupidly interrupted me before I could start a new song, the vampire now knows where we are and he's coming to kill us _all!_"

Bezin didn't seem convinced and Royce looked at him in disbelief.

_What the hell is this idiot doing? _Royce thought. His mouth was still locked shut and he still couldn't move his body. He wanted to yell and scream at his second in command but couldn't. The lanky man could only sit in the saddle of his horse and wait.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. Maybe Bezin was right. Bards were mainly storytellers, and very few were actually powerful or dangerous. The more he thought about this Gareth's story, it didn't really add up. Why was he being pursued by a vampire? If he was, why did he seem so calm and matter-of-fact about it? Wouldn't he have warned them of such a dangerous creature on his trail?

Royce felt the corner of his lips twitch, a pitiful attempt at a smile. Maybe he was lying. But if Gareth was lying and was just tricking them, how come Royce still couldn't move?

Gareth looked at Bezin in disbelief and exhaustion. The bard sighed and threw his hands up in defeat.

"Alright then!" he exclaimed. "Have it your way!"

He turned and walked over to a nearby tree and sat down, crossing his legs. He cradled his lute in his arms as if it were a newborn child. Randor eyed Bezin as joined his companion at the foot of the tree. The dwarf placed his axe on the ground and crossed his thick, trunk like arms across his chest.

The bard began playing a tune, a soft, sweet song that sounded like a lullaby, but with a sad, eerie tone. Bezin and the other outlaws gave Gareth and Randor funny looks but their attention was immediately drawn back to the issue at hand when another blood curdling scream tore through the night.

A warm sensation filled Royce and suddenly, he had control over his limbs again. He flexed his fingers and opened and closed his mouth, testing his abilities. He looked at Gareth, who sat there, watching the outlaws with calm blue eyes.

Royce pondered how the bard was so calm and why he was sitting there but he shook his head. This was just a stupid trick of some sorts.

A soft, distant sound echoed through the still trees, drawing the outlaws' attention. The men gathered together in a tight group and turned to face whatever was coming their way from the dark. The sound grew louder and closer until finally a figure stumbled into view. In the faint moonlight, the outlaws were greeted by the sight of a beautiful elf girl.

The elf was tall and slender with silver hair reaching down past her shoulders. Royce paused and took a minute to admire her beauty. An elf girl like her would fetch a pretty price with Eight Fingers or one of the slavers in Arwintar, but his thoughts of profit were quickly driven from his mind when he saw the state of the elf.

The girl's clothes were torn in places and hung like ribbons that flapped whenever she moved. On her arms and her bare shoulder, Royce saw what looked like cuts. Deep cuts. Dark spots decorated her ruined clothing, indicating that she was bleeding and seriously wounded. Though he had no love for elves, Royce couldn't help but feel a little pity for her.

The girl leaned against a nearby tree, wheezing and trying to catch her breath.

"H...Help…" she whimpered. "He...Help me."

Royce didn't know what to say. If this was a trick, it was very convincing. Although some of the other outlaws were unsure, Bezin didn't seem convinced.

"She wants help," the large man snorted to Royce. "Oh we'll help her alright." A perverse smile formed on his lips. He looked to one of the men and nodded to him. The man gripped his mace tightly and stepped forth.

As he got closer, Royce noticed the air grow unusually calm and silent. He frowned and looked about, searching the darkness around them, between the trees and bushes that surrounded the road. Something wasn't right to the lanky outlaw. Something was terribly wrong.

It then clicked in Royce's head. It was quiet, too quiet. The ambient buzz of bugs and the ordinary sounds of the forest at night, it was all gone! It was as if the world went silent to bear witness to something awful.

_There!_ Royce cried in his head. A shape moved in the darkness. It was brief, but he saw something move and it was fast.

He turned to cry a warning to his subordinate, but was too late.

When the mace wielding outlaw reached the elf girl, an unnaturally wide grin formed on her pale face, exposing a pair of sharp, gleaming fangs.

She lunged at the man, wrapping her arms around him and jumped high into the air, soaring above the trees. The man didn't have time to scream as he vanished into the night sky.

Before anyone could really process what had just happened, a pair of glowing red orbs appeared in the dark before them. Bobbing up and down, the orbs grew closer and closer, resembling will-o'-the-wisps or hellish fireflies. The temperature plummeted. The cold seemed to soak them to the bone as the horses began to shake and thrash. The horses whinnied and scream in terror. Bezin and the others tried to maintain control of their mounts but they could barely keep _themselves_ from panicking. As the glowing red orbs closed in, the horses managed to unseat their riders, Royce included, and galloped off in any direction they could, some racing up the road toward the city of Arven was located and where the rest of the outlaw band was. Others raced off into the woods, hoping to lose themselves and escape certain death.

Royce was dazed and sore. He groaned as he pushed himself up off the ground and stood. He patted himself down and found that his water skin was gone. The outlaw let out a pitiful moan and looked toward Gareth and Randor. The two were still sitting there, underneath the tree and were watching with emotionless faces, though Royce could've sworn that he saw pity on the bard's face. Harnessing what meager outrage and anger he had toward the bard, he picked his sword up off the ground and turned to face this newcomer. He hoped to use this fleeting surge of courage to kill it for causing him all this discomfort.

What little courage he had mustered evaporated when the vampire stepped into the moonlight. Although he'd never seen a vampire in person, it took only one look for Royce to instantly recognize the figure as a vampire.

Almost out of the storybooks, the figure was tall and grim. Dressed in a voluminous black cloak and with flesh pale as marble, the figure resembled a corpse-like nobleman who had just emerged from his crypt. His eyes shined like polished rubies and seemed to regard Royce and the others in the same manner a predator would its next meal. Long black tumbled down past his shoulders and flowed in the soft evening breeze, which also brought a strong rotting stench to the outlaw's nose.

The vampire stood there, still and unmoving like a statue, gazing at the band of outlaws. A smile grew on his face.

"Well, what do we have here?" the undead creature cooed. "Fresh meat." His voice was deep and velvety. It wasn't harsh like Randor's, it was soft and soothing, almost alluring.

Royce, struggling very hard not to show that he was trembling, gripped his weapons and lifted it, trying to put it between him and the undead monster. Glancing sideways, he saw that his subordinates and comrades were barely holding it together. They've fought monsters and various Adventurers, but none of them had dealt with anything of this type or power.

After a lengthy silence, the vampire clapped his hands together. "So," he said with a fanged grin, "Who's up first?"

Nobody spoke, let alone move. Each of the men kept their weapons at the ready, and tried to find a way to escape. Unfortunately, one man eventually broke. He turned and ran, hoping to reach the trees and lose them.

Royce recognized the man but couldn't remember his name. He was rather unremarkable and usually kept to himself. What he did remember about him though was his predilection for the girls of the brothels in Re-Estize. Those that cried the loudest were his favorites, which unsettled Royce. He was a thief and a killer, but amongst the Black Skull Company outlaw band, there were truly monstrous men.

Unfortunately, this world was home to even worse monsters.

"Ah," the vampire sighed, sounding pleased "A volunteer!"

Faster than anyone could react, the vampire was gone, and a powerful gust of wind swept past Royce and the other outlaws, nearly knocking them over. The outlaws spun around and saw that the vampire and the fleeing man were gone. In the darkness, they heard an agonized scream for help and then… silence.

The outlaws began to tremble, murmure and wail.

"We're going to die!" one of the men sobbed.

"We-We got to get out of here!" another cried

"Shut up!" Bezin shouted them down, his face red and his knuckles were white as he gripped his weapon as tightly as he could. Sweat poured down the outlaw's face.

"To hell with this!" one of the frantic men screeched. "I'm not going to wait around to die!"

"Wait, no!" Royce shouted, but the man was already making a beeline for the woods in the opposite direction his now fallen comrade was taken.

Before he reached the trees, an awful, familiar figure landed in front of him in a low crouch.

Rising to her full height, the elf girl looked the outlaw in the eyes and grinned.

"Boo!" she giggled.

The frightened man cried out loud, and swung his sword wildly about. Each swordstroke missed until she caught his blade between her index finger and thumb, inches away from her throat.

"That could've hurt someone," she said mockingly.

With little effort, she pulled the sword free from the desperate outlaw's hands and grabbed him by the throat. The two vanished into the darkness of the forest, the man's screams being the last time they'll ever hear of him. Pef covered his mouth in horror, and began mumbling every defensive incantation he knew. The familiar, green glowing magical circles appeared before the terrorized mage's hands. The air around the group shimmered and solidified in a solid glowing green box of light. Thin ribbons of golden light wrapped themselves around the box, securing it further.

Both Royce felt relief wash over him, but he prayed to the gods that the protection spells were enough to hold the vampires at bay. A thought occurred to the outlaw, and he turned his gaze to Gareth and Randor.

The two were still sitting under a tree, the bard strummed away on his lute and Randor seemed to be biting into an apple.

Royce stared in disbelief. Just who were they? How come the vampires haven't gone after them yet? They were right there!

He then remembered what Gareth said. Something about his songs keeping him the vampires off his trail. Did they make him invisible? Whatever they did, it seemed to be working.

As a dome of violet energy formed over their fortified box of magic, Pef sank to his knees. Bezin clapped a hand on the mage's back.

"Good thinking!" The large outlaw chuckled, sounding half hysterical. "They won't be able to get in now!"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that~" Gareth sang from under the tree.

The three remaining outlaws turned to the bard.

The blond man stared at them, and stated plainly, "That's not going to stop him."

"How would you know?" Royce asked, curious and fearful.

"I fought him before." Gareth shrugged, leaning back against the trunk of the tree. "Not a nice guy. Killed many good men, all stronger than you lot, that's for sure."

"Then...stop him...please!" Pef begged as he tried to regain his strength.

Gareth tilted his head, his song changed from a sad lullabye to a strill, nerve wracking tune. "Why should I?" he asked him. "You sought to take our lives and our valuables and go on your merry way. I'd be doing the world a favor by letting the beast have you."

"I can change!" Pef wheezed, his face drenched in sweat. "We-We can change!"

The young bard cocked an eyebrow. His eyes went from the exhausted mage to the large second-in-command, before finally landing on Royce. When the bard's eyes landed on him, the lanky outlaw felt as if the strange man was staring into his soul. It was as if every thought, every deed, every sin was laid bare and exposed. In the glow of the magical barriers, Gareth's eyes seemed to shine like stars.

"Will you?" the bard asked.

"Yes!" Pef cried. "I-I'll give up banditry! I'll go to prison! I'll go back to the Imperial Magic Academy! I-I-I'll do right by my mother and father! I'll do anything!"

Gareth's expression softened. "I believe you," he said softly. "But...I don't know about your friends."

Pef looked up at Bezin and Royce. The two shared unsure looks with one another, before looking at Pef.

The mage looked at them expectantly. Bezin's mouth opened and closed wordlessly and Royce was unsure what to do. His thoughts were interrupted as a soft knock came from behind him on the magical force field. The outlaws looked and there stood a horrid vision.

The vampire stood there, his eyes were now a solid black like a fish's eyes. His mouth was covered in blood. He lifted a hand and knocked again on the barrier again, as if he were knocking on the door of an acquaintance.

"Little pigs, little pigsssss~" the vampire hissed. He pressed his face against the barrier and placed his blood soaked hands on the wall. He dragged his claw-like fingers down the wall. Sparks flew from the wall. "Let me in, let me in~"

Pef cried and scurried away from the wall until he was on the other side, with his back toward Gareth.

Bezin stumbled back, his sword slipped from his hands. His jaw hanging open in horror and his eyes wide.

The vampire's expression turned ugly and feral. Scowling deeply, he let out a deep, animalistic growl. Pulling his head back, he headbutted the barrier. The shimmering wall of light absorbed the initial blow but when he repeated the action, the wall warbled and shook. The vampire continued to headbutt the wall, over and over in rapid succession. With each strike, cracks begin to form.

With each crack that formed on the glowing walls, their hopes of the magic shield protecting them faded. With a grin that'll haunt them to their deaths, he let out one last roar, before slamming his head against the wall, this time shattering it like glass.

Royce felt whatever strength he had in him slip away as cold, unrelenting terror washed over the man. The vampire stepped through the breach as the outlaw sank to his knees. The warm protective magic of the barrier spell disintegrated into nothingness, plunging them back into faintly illuminated darkness.

Time seemed to slow as the vampire lunged forward, fangs bared and claws ready. Before the vampire could reach them, a powerful, blinding light filled the world, and Royce knew no more.

* * *

Lydia and Randor placed the last of the unconscious bandits beside his friends. The five bandits were lying side by side beneath a tree a short distance away from the dirt road that they had blocked a few minutes earlier before Gareth put them under a powerful illusion spell. Nearby, Kane was licking away the last of the pig's blood from his lips and fingers, which he lathered on himself to give the illusion of devouring the bandits. Gareth was standing beside the sleeping bandits, strumming a lovely tune. Not the best plan, but not wanting to kill anyone or get violent, it was what he came up with on short notice. Once Gareth's song ended, the bard slung his lute across his back and walked over to his brother.

"Well?" the vampire asked.

"It's done… I think," Gareth said, scratching the back of his head. "I've never used the **[Modify Memory]** spell outside of Yggdrasil before, but hopefully it'll do the trick. Tomorrow they should wake up with a massive headache and a strong desire to reform."

"Or be drooling vegetables."

"Or that."

Kane nodded slowly. The vampire didn't need enhanced senses to know that these outlaws were not nice guys. From what he saw of Gareth's encounter, he knew very well that they weren't going to let his brother and Randor go easy. Sure they had the ability to kick the shit out of them, even kill them, but that's not why they were there or who they were. They weren't killers and they weren't monsters. Though Kane was uncertain about the morality using the memory spell, these guys, according to Gareth's karma senses, were rotten to the core, save for three who had a still chance to turn themselves around.

The vampire went over their little performance in his mind and couldn't help but shudder at what he felt back there, tormenting those men. He felt...alive. Hearing them panic as he unleashed his **[Aura of Terror]** ability made his undead heart sing. Something deep down whispered to Kane to tear right into them, make them suffer and drain them dry but the assassin forced those thoughts down. He may be a vampire, but he was still himself. That is what's important.

"Really killed it back there," Gareth said, looking at his brother. "Really...convincing. Especially the whole 'little pigs' thing."

Kane shrugged. "What can I say, I'm a method actor. I slip into the role. But what about you? Real Oscar winning performance you had going on there."

"Eh." Gareth shrugged. "It's...it's not my best."

The vampire chuckled and patted the bard on the shoulder as Lydia and Randor returned from hiding the unconscious bandits.

"All done, my lords," the silver haired elf reported.

"Excellent work, my little vampire" Kane purred, causing Lydia to blush and look at her feet.

"Forgive me, my lords, I know it's not my place," Randor spoke up, "but couldn't we have just, you know, slain these miscreants?"

"What's the point in that?" Gareth asked "They die and they don't learn anything. Our little...experiment should help them see the error of their ways and find their way to redemption. At least for three of them. The rest might wake up drooling and mindless."

Randor nodded thoughtfully. "Very wise, my lord," he said sincerely. "I see. You are very merciful."

"Oh well-" Gareth began bashfully, but was interrupted by a distant scream, followed by what sounded like an explosion.

The four looked in the direction of where the sounds came from. Gareth and Kane shared a look.

"That wasn't us, right?" Gareth asked.

"No." Kane shook his head. "Besides, you're the one with the illusion spells."

There was another explosion, followed by more screams and shouts. The two shared a look, then looked to their NPC companions.

"Lets go check it out," Kane said, rubbing his hands together. "Could be fun!"

Gareth frowned. "Not my idea of fun, but…" he shrugged.

With that, the four companions continued their journey down the road but at a quicker pace, not really knowing what lies ahead of them.

* * *

**(a/n: what do you think? Some notes- the bold text ["like this"] is how the characters will talk when using message. Some of the spells and how they manifest are a little different from cannon. Lastly, the lyrics are from the song "_Oo-de-lally"_ from Disney's Robin Hood. Big thanks to Lucius Walker for all his help! Anyway, until next time. Stay safe out there!)**


	6. Why Can't We Be Friends?

**(a/n: New chapter already? I hope you enjoy this. Big thanks to Lucius Walker for all his help!)**

* * *

Ch. 6: Why Can't We Be Friends?

Gareth, Kane, Lydia, and Randor raced up the forest road, guided by the sounds of battle and the faint moonlight, not bothering to stop and worry about any further ambushes, until they got as close as either of the brothers were comfortable with. Venturing a short distance from the dirt road and keeping low, the four adventurers approached the treeline as a blinding flash of green burst, followed by a thunderous explosion. Peering above the bushes they sheltered behind, Gareth scanned the scene.

Beyond the bushes and trees was what used to look like a peaceful meadow now turned battlefield. Scattered about the ruined green were small crackling fires, craters and scattered bits of earth and foliage. Among the fires and foliage, the angelic bard spied what looked like bodies, though some were hard to identify, including the one only a few feet away from where Gareth and the others were hiding. This body was charred beyond what was normally identified as human, while others looked all together or were missing some limbs. When it registered that he was looking at a burned, mutilated body, Gareth felt a twinge of sadness but nothing else. The bard was taken aback by his own reaction. He'd never seen a dead body outside of a video game or an old movie. The closest he'd come to death was the death of a close friend, but they had died of an illness. It was saddening but it wasn't as horrifying or traumatic as this. He should be feeling...something, like horror or disgust. He should feel sick to his stomach. Instead, he just felt…sad over the loss of a life.

Before Gareth could ponder the reason for his unusual reaction to this otherwise intense and horrifying scene, a voice broke his train of thought.

"Come on, Marcus!" A gruff voice called out from somewhere in the ruined meadow. "It doesn't have to be this way!"

Gareth looked and saw a man standing at the edge of the meadow, far to his right. The man was large, hairy and wore a dark cloak. He looked a lot bigger than that bandit who refused to let him and Randor pass. In another life, Gareth probably would've been afraid of him, but right now, the bard was fascinated. The man looked like the archetypal medieval fantasy bandit: scars all over his face, large muscles, and a look that says "I'm going to kill you and take your stuff."

As Gareth focused on the man, the bard noticed that there were shapes and silhouettes in the trees behind him. In the silence, he could make out some distant groans and cursing.

"Just give us the girl!" the man continued, his voice was loud and commanding. "She's the only one we want. Give her to us and we'll let the rest of you go in peace."

"You know I can't do that, Burdar!" Another voice replied in an equally loud and firm tone.

This voice originated from the opposite side of the meadow, far to Gareth's left, where a wagon lay on its back, its wheels in the air. The bard could see a man sticking his head up from behind the overturned wagon. This man looked roughly the same age as the bandit name Burdar and also had an impressive looking scar on his face. He had messy black hair and steely eyes. Gareth noticed some movement behind the wagon and could make out some soft chatter, followed by a frustrated grunt.

"You know me," the raven haired man continued, "I get paid and I follow whatever job I'm paid to do all the way to the end. Besides, my code of honor forbids me from allowing defenseless young women from being abducted by scum like you."

"How chivalrous," Brudar sneered. "I admire you Marcus, I really do. A man of principle and honor, very rare in this day and age, but how'd that work out for you when you served the Bloody Emperor?"

The now-named Marcus was silent, and Gareth could practically taste the tension and hostility in the air.

Brudar sniffed. "We've all done things we're not proud of. You and me, we both have dirty hands and we did what was necessary. Well...look where that got us. Either a life of mucking out stables for the Royal Air Guard or be carted off to the southeast to help that dragon's little wretch with her beastman problem."

**["Get to the point"]** Kane complained in Gareth's head via **[Message]**.

Gareth threw him an annoyed look, before looking back to the scene unfolding before them.

"What's your point?" Marcus demanded.

Gareth could hear Kane snicker at that.

"My point," Brudar huffed, "is that we both have a job to do. We're both struggling to keep food in our mouths. Therefore, I have a proposition for you: Give us the girl and we can divide the bounty between us."

"You're joking," Marcus said in disbelief.

"I'm not," the bandit said unabashedly. "Come on! We were comrades, you and I. Standing together fighting in the Imperial Army, glory and gold were ours for the taking. Look at us now. You, an Adventurer, and myself a bandit. Our fortunes really have taken a turn for the worst."

"Yours, maybe," Marcus scoffed, "I'm still respected, you're a wanted criminal. Was it bad luck that forced you to kill that official? Did the Emperor force you to deprive those farmers of their livestock?"

"I was merely taking what was owed me!" Brudar's face turned red, and Gareth could've sworn he saw spittle fly from the man's mouth. "I gave my all to the Empire, and he tossed me aside like I was nothing. He tossed _both_ of us aside!"

Silence fell over the meadow for a stretch of time that seemed to last forever. After some time, Brudar took a deep breath and spoke again, this time more calmly and less spit filled.

"Listen to me" the bandit said "The amount of money that girl is worth to my employer...it's something you should consider. It's more than enough for your party and for my men. Just think about it. I know that jobs for Adventurers are growing harder to come by in this country and that the Emperor is basically squeezing every coin out of the guild until there's nothing left. I know that you're too proud to be a Worker and Re-Estize is not a better choice. Just...think about it."

Silence reigned over the meadow once more. Gareth could see that Marcus appeared to be lost in thought, as if considering his old friend's words. The silence held for a few moments until Marcus gave Brudar a cold look, and spoke.

"Not a chance," the raven haired Adventurer said firmly.

Without warning, an arrow whizzed out from the upper branches of the trees behind Marcus and the overturned wagon, followed by another. The two arrows sailed through the air until halting in mid air on either side of the wagon. Pained screams sounded as the air around the arrows rippled and two men wearing hooded cloaks appeared, standing there clutching their wounds with one hand and holding a dagger in the other.

Brudar's face twisted into an ugly scowl as the two screaming men were silenced by another two arrows, hitting each of them in the throat.

**["Totally saw that coming, by the way"] **Kane gloated.

"You can't have her," Marcus declared. "Not for all the gold in the world. Besides, I know how you are with money. There's no way that you would've split the reward with us."

"So much for sentiment," the bandit snarled. "I'm done playing around!"

The bandit turned to the men behind him and began shouting orders, gesturing wildly. In the darkness among the trees, Gareth could see men moving, drawing swords and spreading out. He glanced over to Marcus and assessed the situation. The raven haired adventurer was in trouble. Sure, he and whoever else he's got can hold the line for a bit, maybe deal out some serious injuries to the bandits, but the bandits outnumbered them by a significant margin.

If they didn't get help or escape soon, they're going to be overrun very quickly.

"We have to do something," Gareth murmured.

"My lord?" Lydia questioned.

"We have to help them" The bard said, slightly louder this time but only loud enough for his companions to hear. "We can't let this Brudar person kill them."

"How merciful of you, Lord Gareth," Randor said with admiration. "Thinking of others and showing your infinite compassion." The dwarf hefted his axe and nodded to the meadow. "Allow me. This won't take long."

"Easy there, killer," Kane said as he placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder and pulled him back. "Let's think about this."

"What is there to think about?" Gareth asked.

Kane opened his mouth to speak but saw that Lydia and Randor were watching and listening very intently. The vampire looked at his brother and jerked his head to the side, indicating that they speak in private.

The two stepped away from their NPC companions and, once they were out of earshot, Kane spoke.

"One, we don't know these people," the vampire said softly. "Remember, this isn't our world. We don't know what we would be getting into if we just jump in."

"They're trying to protect a girl from these rapey Village People rejects," the bard countered. "Besides, from their little exchange, it seems like this Marcus guy has a good head on his shoulders."

"Yeah, but you also heard how they were both in an 'Imperial Army' gaining 'glory and gold' and having 'dirty hands,'" Kane said, using his fingers to make air quotes. "Seems like they may have shady pasts and aren't on the right side of things."

"Or, they were both ordinary guys who did bad things for this Emperor guy and ended upon the bad side of things, only one went insane and the other held true to whatever values he may still have."

Kane frowned. "That's oddly specific and a bit of a leap. Look, for all we know, we could be helping the wrong people or might draw some unwanted attention to us."

"I know," Gareth said with a sigh. "But I just...I _feel_ that we should help this Marcus guy. I can sense that he's solid."

"Sense? Like with your Karma Sense?"

"Yes! And it was right about those bandit guys, right?"

The vampire assassin scratched his chin and considered his brother's words. Meanwhile, Gareth just stood there, waiting for his brother's answer. While Gareth wanted to help this Marcus, he couldn't help but agree with his brother and harbor a measure of doubt. Maybe there was more to this than they know. Perhaps that by intervening the two of them might end up in the middle of something awful and could yield unfortunate consequences. However, despite the consequences, the angelic bard felt that it was the right thing to do.

Before Kane could give his answer, the two heard a new voice echoing through the night.

"Hey, Brudar!" a young voice shouted.

"What now?" Kane grumbled, and the two rejoined Lydia and Randor and gazed into the meadow.

In the meadow, standing before the overturned wagon, facing Brudar and the bandits, was a cocky looking young man in blue cloak, holding a broadsword.

"What is that idiot doing?" the vampire murmured in disbelief.

Gareth only shrugged and watched as the young man stepped forward. The newcomer was average height and had an athletic build. His light blond hair made him stand out in the dark and his youthful face brimmed with confidence. Behind him, Gareth could see Marcus and another man hissing at the young man to get back behind the cart. The young man didn't appear to be listening.

Brudar turned and scowled at the young man. He took one look at the newcomer and frowned with confusion.

"Brudar!" the young man yelled loudly. "I challenge you to a duel. My blade against yours!"

Both of the brothers watched the scene with disbelief. Even Brudar seemed uncertain of what the young man was doing.

"What?" the bandit finally said, scowling at the young man.

"Come on, you and me, duel it out here and now!" the young man crowed "Like the Black Knight of the Thirteen Heroes and the Silver Paladin of the Holy Kingdom. We'll prove who's the better swordsman here and now!"

"Leto!" Marcus hissed from behind the wagon. "Get back here, now!"

It took a moment but Brudar eventually overcame his uncertainty and disbelief and began chuckling. His chuckling turned into laughter.

"Thanks for the laugh, kid," the bandit said after he caught his breath, "but I'm afraid playtime is over."

With a gesture, a tall, dangerous looking man with spiky hair emerged from the trees behind Brudar, carrying a broadsword. The man flashed a sadistic grin and strode forward, obviously intent on cutting the young man down.

Leto, however, looked undeterred. In fact, he looked pleased. He stepped forward to meet the broadsword wielding bandit.

The two closed the gap pretty quickly and with a swing from both swordsmen, their blades met and rang loudly. The brothers, Marcus, and Brudar watched as the two clashed. Though the bandit's fighter was taller and looked more experienced, Leto seemed to make up for it in speed, meeting the bandit's attacks blow for blow and evading whatever attack that slipped past his defenses. As the duel progressed, Gareth noticed that the blond swordsman was beginning to look winded, and was slowly losing ground.

"This is taking too long," Brudar complained. "Finish him!"

"Leto!" a young woman cried out from Marcus's side.

The spiky haired swordsman growled and he batted aside the young man's blade, leaving him wide open. The bandit raised his weapon and growled in a rough voice "**[Martial Art: Cleaving Strike!]**"

The bandit's broadsword glowed bright red, and before he brought it down, Gareth acted.

* * *

Marcus didn't know how things got this way.

Earlier this morning, the former Imperial soldier turned Adventurer was sharing a drink with the party's Ranger and his second-in-command, Allen, at the Three Hooks tavern. Though the Emperor was putting the squeeze on the guild, their party was doing just fine. They had just gotten back from a job escorting some merchants east toward the Karnassus City-State Alliance, and a new job was already lined up. Sure, it was another escort mission, which can be fairly stressful and draining depending on the cargo and the region in which they're traveling. However, this job seemed pretty simple and even relaxing.

All they had to do was escort Maggie up to Azuras, one of the Empire's largest port cities to the north, and back home to Arven. Seemed simple enough. Maggie was a good girl and she helped Marcus and the rest of his party from time to time. Her father, Sam, owned the Green Dragon tavern and inn, and was a good friend to all Adventurers, even now that the Imperial government was doing all that it could to drive them out. It was pretty obvious that they'd take the job. An nice, easy journey through the Empire, helping the daughter of an old friend and worrying about the occasional goblin raid or the odd bandit. What Marcus didn't expect was the Black Skull Company.

The Black Skulls were a band of thieves and outlaws who have been on the rise lately, causing the local governors all sorts of trouble. He had heard that a chunk of them were former Adventurers, deserters from the Imperial Army and even the occasional down on their luck Worker. They usually went after big targets, ones with lots of gold or something of value. He'd never heard of them attacking a wagon carrying barrels of cheap ale and salted fish. But he was wrong.

On the return journey everything was smooth sailing. The night was calm and cool and the road seemed quiet. When they reached the meadow, Brudar and his men attacked from all sides. Fortunately, with Silvia's magic and Allen's sharp eyes, they managed to catch on and deal some serious injuries. The wagon was knocked over in the battle, and the beleaguered travelers took cover behind it.

Marcus knew Brudar very well. He was brutal, unrelenting and sharp. It's how he rose high up in the army so quickly. The seasoned adventurer knew that they weren't going to get out of the meadow easy, but he knew that they had a fair shot. Silvia and Bruno had concocted an escape plan that would have ensured Maggie's safety and allowed the party to fight without worrying about her safety. It was looking like they were getting out of there. Until Leto stepped out into the open.

Leto was a competent Adventurer and a good swordsman, but sometimes, Marcus wondered what went on in his head, especially when he stepped out into the open and demanded a duel. The leader of the party kicked himself for not seeing this coming. The boy had issues when it came to following plans, and now he was going to die!

Marcus watched with horror as the blond young swordsman lost his weapon, and the bandit's sword began to glow with a Martial Arts strike.

He moved to rush to Leto's defense, but an arrow zipped past his head and landed in the trunk of the tree behind him. Marcus swore under his breath and ducked back behind cover. He carefully peered around the corner and could only watch helplessly as the bandit brought his sword down.

A loud clang sounded and the air went still. Marcus's eyes widened in shock.

Standing between Leto and the bandit was a tall, blond figure in a green cloak and a feathered cap, holding aloft a longsword with both hands, blocking the attack.

The bandit's sword still glowed as he tried to drive the blade through the stranger's own. Sparks flew and showered to the ground as the band's sword ground against the longsword.

"You just don't give up, do you?" the newcomer observed in a soft, elegant voice.

The spiky haired bandit gritted his teeth and continued to struggle against his new opponent, but made no headway. The stranger remained cool and composed, as if he were a statue.

Snarling, the bandit brought his sword back and tried to strike again, only to be blocked by the stranger and, surprisingly, the bandit's sword shattered into pieces, like glass.

Marcus blinked in astonishment. Across the way, he could see that Brudar was just as surprised, though he could see outrage and anger begin to form in his expression.

The bandit looked at his ruined sword in horror, then looked up at the stranger, who only shrugged as if he were just as surprised.

"Sorry about that" the stranger apologized, sounding genuinely sorry. "And sorry about this."

He reached up and flicked the bandit on the nose. A loud crack sounded in the dark and the bandit was on the ground, covering his face and moaning in pain.

The stranger flinched, and seemed to be murmuring to himself, something about putting something to sleep. He turned and faced Leto.

In the faint moonlight, Marcus and the others were rather taken back by the stranger's appearance. His face was flawless and devoid of scars or blemish. Long, silky blond, almost white hair reached down to his shoulders and two glittering blue eyes were set in his flawless face. He looked like an elf, but from what the Adventurer could see, the man didn't have pointed ears. The man reminded Marcus of an incredibly handsome nobleman, the way he carried himself and the way he spoke seemed to hint nobility but that couldn't be it.

After all, most of the nobles in Baharuth were dead, and the ones in Re-Estize were nowhere near as pleasant to look at.

"Are you alright?" the stranger asked Leto.

"Why...did you...get in the way" Leto huffed, trying to gain his breath.

Marcus groaned internally and tried very hard not to roll his eyes. The young swordsman can be so infuriating at times.

"I'm...sorry?" the stranger said slowly, trying to comprehend Leto's words.

"You got in my way!" the young swordsman complained very loudly. "I would've had him if you didn't interfere!"

"Leto!" Silvia called out. "Stop being rude, he was only trying to help!"

Marcus couldn't help but agree with the mage. Leto generally meant well, but often enough he comes off as rude and annoying to everyone, even to those who try to help him.

A smile appeared on the stranger's face. "I'm sure you did," he said almost smugly. "Tell me, at what point in your masterful strategy were you going to strike back? Before or after he cut you in half?"

The former Imperial soldier could hear Leto gritting his teeth, and looked like he was about to throw a tantrum at the stranger, but Brudar cut in.

"Hey!" the bandit growled "Who the hell are you?"

The stranger looked about, as if he were confused as to who could be talking to him, until he saw Brudar. "Me?" he asked, pointing to himself.

The stranger chuckled. "Pardon me, I forgot my manners. My name is Gareth Silvertongue" he doffed his cap and gave a theatrical bow to the bandit leader. Returning his cap to his head, Gareth continued. "I'm a bard by trade. Would you care for a song?"

"Just who do you think you are, barging in like this?" Brudar snarled. The large, hairy bandit paused. Something seemed to be going through his mind as Marcus saw a stupefied look appear on his face. "And how the hell did you get past the rear guard?"

"I'm sorry?" Gareth asked, blinking owlishly.

"No one else was supposed to interrupt us. My men were supposed to stop anyone from coming through!"

The bard stroked his chin thoughtfully "Did one of them happen to be a skinny fellow who looked like he could use a meal? He had a friend who was a large, rude lout?"

Brudar scowled, but he nodded.

Recognition appeared on the bard's face. "Ah, those fellows. I'm sorry to tell you but they're not going to be much help. You see, they've taken off."

"What?"

"They scarpered - er, - ran away. Something about a vampire wanting to eat them."

Brudar stared at Gareth for a moment. "You're lying!" he accused.

The bard shrugged "I don't know what to tell you but that's what they told me. I think they might've had a little too much to drink."

The bandit looked ready to explode as he made a gesture.

Marcus readied himself and expected more bandits to appear but after a few moments, nothing. Brudar glared and made the gesture again. Still nothing.

He turned and growled "What is with all of you? Get out here and kill this bastard!"

A moment after the words left his lips, someone did step out of the shadows but, judging from Brudar's reaction, weren't what he was expecting.

Marcus could barely make out who or what he was seeing. The figure was clad in all black and had long dark hair. Only his pale, sickly looking face was visible in the dark. He matched Brudar in height, but the Adventurer couldn't tell much else, due to the billowing cloak he wore.

Emerging from the shadows beside him were a slender, beautiful elf with silver hair, and a burly and angry looking dwarf wielding a large, fearsome looking axe.

Brudar stumbled away from these newcomers, quickly drawing his sword and aiming it at these armed and dangerous looking strangers.

"I'm sorry," the man in black said, his voice was low and velvety, "but I'm afraid your friends are...indisposed right now."

"They're not dead, if that's what you're thinking" Gareth chimed in "But they'll certainly have a nasty headache and spotty memories of tonight. So, I have come with a proposal of my own. Leave now and forget this ever happened or…" the bard shrugged and left the threat hanging in the air.

Brudar looked at the man in black, then to the elf, then the dwarf and finally to the bard, surprise written on his face. Marcus was just as surprised. Gareth and his friends appeared seemingly out of nowhere and unnoticed by both him and by Brudar's men. They must be very powerful and very experienced if they got the drop on the bandits this quickly and effectively.

Moments passed at a slug's pace, but eventually Brudar sheathed his sword.

"Very well," he grumbled, "I know when I am beat."

Marcus frowned. Gareth and his friends may have gained the upper hand, but Brudar wasn't one to give up so easily. As the bandit turned to leave, the former Imperial soldier realized what the bandit was doing.

Before he could shout a word of warning, Bruder spun around, throwing knives in hand and shouted, "**[Martial Art: Flow Acceleration]!**" The knives flew from his hands at an incredible speed, becoming almost invisible to Marcus's eyes. Brudar's eyes were wild and frantic, a sense of victory filled his expression, but his elation quickly faded when he saw that Gareth was still standing.

"W-What the hell?" The bandit leader breathed.

"Looking for these?" the man in black purred, lifting long pale hands and displaying two handfuls of dangerous throwing knives.

Brudar spun around and saw the strange pale man standing right behind him. He stumbled away in surprise. Marcus frowned.

_How did he get there?_ The former Imperial soldier wondered.

"Watch how a professional does it," The man in black grinned, displaying a mouthful of perfect, pearly teeth and, in a dark blur of speed, hurled one of the knives. The blade caught the edge of Brudar's clothes, close to the shoulder, and pinned him to a nearby tree. A gleam of silver and two more knives embedded themselves into the bandit's clothes, this time pinning his arm and wrist. The last two he placed in the tree trunk near the bandit's head, and the other dangerously close to his groin.

Marcus winced, but was impressed by the man's skillful display.

Sweat trickled down Brudar's face as the man in black approached the bandit.

"W-Wait!" he begged, "Please, don't kill me! I'll-I'll give you anything you want! Money, items, information, anything!"

"Shhh" the man in black hushed the bandit, placing a long, pale finger on the frightened criminal's lips. "Fret not, we're not going to kill you."

"Y-you're not?"

"No," the man in black gave a hearty chuckle and gazed into Brudar's eyes. Marcus noticed the bandit's tense body slowly grow limp.

"You see, unlike you, we're civilized people" the man explained, his voice relaxing but carried a threatening tone. "This is merely a warning. Take it to heart and find a new line of employment. If we see you again, let alone _hear_ about you, then…" the man looked to the dwarf.

Brudar and Marcus followed his gaze and saw the dwarf grinning, wiggling his eyebrows and holding up his axe, suggesting what he was going to do to the bandit.

The incapacitated bandit paled, and he quickly nodded "R-Right, d-don't worry about me. You-you won't hear from me again! I promise, I'll turn over a new leaf!"

"Good boy," the man in black grinned and pulled the throwing knives out and allowed the bandit to sink to the ground. Brudar blinked, and a dazed look appeared on his face. The bandit stood and stumbled away, vanishing into the dark of the forest and was gone. Not long after, his subordinate, the one Gareth had stopped from killing Leto, crawled after him. The bandit was whimpering in pain and nursing his now broken, bleeding nose.

Silence and stillness fell on the meadow and, after a few moments, Gareth turned and smiled at Marcus and his companions.

"So...what are your names?"

* * *

After a shaky introduction, the two groups got acquainted with one another. Gareth's group learned about Marcus and his group, learning each of their names and earning thanks for their unexpected rescue. Aside from the raven haired Adventurer, there was Leto, the young swordsman who tried to go 1v1 on Brudar. He pouted and mumbled about how he totally had everything under his control. There was Silvia, a pretty young woman with long, wine colored hair. She batted her eyelashes at Gareth, but the bard didn't notice.

There was Bruno, a large, stoic man with straw colored hair. He greeted the brothers with a silent nod, and went to gather any dropped weapons, extinguish the fires still burning in the meadow, and, most importantly, bury the bodies.

Lastly, there was Allen. He was a lanky man with a kind face and disheveled appearance. He greeted the two with a handshake and a warm thank you.

"You really saved us back there," the brown haired ranger said with a smile. "Got pretty close back there. I almost ran out of arrows." He looked to Kane. "Nice work with the knives."

"No problem," Kane said quietly; his attention was elsewhere.

"It's actually quite an amusing story," Gareth said, putting on his airy, noble voice. He brushed aside some of his long hair and smiled. "We were actually lost and wandering. We bumped into a band of thieves, going on and on about some big job, and then we heard some explosions."

"That'll be me," Silvia piped up. She blushed when Gareth looked her way.

"And then we followed the sounds and found you," the bard finished with a smile.

"What are you doing out here anyways?" Kane asked, looking at Marcus and Allen.

There was a loud, creaking groan of wood and a thud. Everyone turned to see the overturned wagon was now right side up. Randor dusted off his hands and looked at the assembled adventurers with a proud look.

"All done," the dwarf said with a grin.

After loading up what they could salvage, dropped weapons, armor, and a couple of sturdy looking barrels, the two groups set off down the road through the forest. Bruno had retrieved the horses, which were scared off during the ambush, and hooked them back to the wagon.

Allen and Bruno walked on either side of the wagon while Silvia rode in the front with the red haired woman, who kept quiet through the whole ordeal, and Leto took point, walking in the front, his sword drawn and a sure expression on his face.

Gareth, Kane, and Marcus guarded the rear. The raven haired adventurer explained to the brothers their escort mission and what had happened up until the ambush. Gareth nodded, slowly absorbing the information the adventurer related to them, though some of the terms and concepts went over his head. Once Marcus had finished his explanation, the bard asked one of the numerous questions he had floating about in his head.

"What did that Brudar fellow mean by 'the Emperor' and 'squeezing this guild of every coin?'"

Marcus gave him a funny look, but answered. "Emperor Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix, nicknamed 'the Bloody Emperor,' has grown quite sour toward the Adventurer's Guild. Recently, he's enacted a bunch of new laws and regulations that heavily tax the guild for every job we take on. Meaning, more jobs we take, more coins go into his coffers."

"Why?" Kane asked

"He's never had much love for Adventurers," Marcus said with a shrug. "The Empire's military is the finest in the world, second to only maybe the Theocracy's or the Holy Kingdom's. With a standing army as well equipped and well trained as the Empire's, there's really no need to keep a bunch of Adventurers around."

"And which Empire is that?" Gareth asked lamely.

Marcus looked at the bard again and this time he asked the blond man a question.

"Don't you know where you are?"

Gareth let out an embarrassed chuckle. "My companions and I are from a distant land that you most certainly have never heard of, which is why we were lost. We're new to these lands."

Marcus nodded thoughtfully, accepting the bard's explanation.

"I see. Well, let me be the first to welcome you to the glorious Baharuth Empire, one of the finest nations in the world. As of right now, if you're an Adventurer, then this is the last country you'd want to be in."

"If it is, then why are you still here?" Kane asked.

Marcus shrugged. "This is my home. I've got nowhere else to go. There are people here who need me. Besides, it's not much better in the other human kingdoms."

Kane frowned. "Human kingdoms?"

"Kingdoms ruled by, populated by, or at least friendly to, humans. There are numerous other nations on this continent that hate humans. Some of them consider us dinner."

"Charming," Gareth muttered grimly. "What are the other human kingdoms?"

"There's our neighbors to the west." Marcus nodded toward the large shapes, looming in the distance to their right. "Over the Azerlisia Mountains, lies the Kingdom of Re-Estize. Decadent and corrupt, they are our closest rivals. To the southeast, there's the Dragon Kingdom, to the southwest, the Slane Theocracy, full of religious fanatics. West of them, across a vast wilderness, there's the Roble Holy Kingdom."

"They really don't like each other," Allen chimed in from his side of the wagon. "The Theocracy and the Holy Kingdom, lots of bad blood."

Marcus nodded in agreement. "Indeed. There are several others, but none of them are friendly to the Empire or humans in general."

"Sounds awful," Kane said.

The raven haired adventurer nodded but didn't seem too broken up about it.

"So, what country are you from?" Allen asked, dropping back and walking beside the brothers and Marcus. "I like talking to people from far off places, which is why I became an Adventurer. See the world, meet interesting people and all that."

"Like my brother said, you probably never would've heard of it." Kane said, a little too harshly.

"Try me," Allen persisted.

"Yggdrasil," Gareth blurted.

Kane, Allen, and Marcus looked at Gareth, who tried very hard to not seem obvious or appear like he was lying.

"A land called Yggdrasil," the bard resumed, calmer and more slowly this time. "It's far, far away from here."

Allen frowned. "Never heard of it. What's it like?"

"Bleak," Kane answered brusquely. "Barren, awful. Not the kind of place you want to spend a lot of time in."

"Sounds awful," Silvia said from the driver's seat of the wagon.

"It's not all bad," Gareth said gently. "Sure, it's pretty bleak and difficult to live in, but it has its charms."

"W-What brings you to Baharuth?" a new voice suddenly asked them.

Everyone looked and saw that the question came from the young, quiet, red haired woman that Marcus and his party were escorting. Gareth blinked, and he smiled a little.

"I'm a bard!" he said with a flourish. "It's my job to travel the world, collect stories and songs, and share them with those I meet. I've traveled to many lands and have collected many songs and tales, but none from these lands. I hope that I might learn a few things here."

"R-Right," the young woman said, nodding a little too quickly.

The group traveled the road for a long time. Marcus answered some of Kane's questions and had explained the purpose and functions of Adventurers and other basic information about life on the continent. He also informed the two the name of their little party: the White Clovers. The night deepened and the moon had gradually marched across the sky. Eventually came to a stop in a vast, hilly green stretch of country. The wagon was directed off to the side of the road and off a short distance and the group began to make camp for the night. Bruno and Allen collected some wood and built a small fire. Silvia walked the perimeter of the camp, murmuring incantations and aiming her spells at the campsite.

"To keep us invisible," Marcus explained when he noticed Gareth's perplexed expression. "Keeps us hidden from bandits and other things."

"What other things?" Kane asked.

"Goblins and ogres," Allen answered with a shrug. "The usual. They're a lot more active in these parts, since we're so close to the Azerlisia Mountains. We'll be a lot safer when we're closer to Arven."

Gareth and Kane shared a look.

Once Silvia finished casting her spells, the Adventurers and Gareth's group gathered around the fire. Bruno returned from the forest, bringing with him some small furry animals that looked like rats to Gareth. After they were skinned and cleaned, Allen cooked them over the fire. As the rats were cooking, Gareth noticed Leto watching him from across the fire.

"Is there something on my face?" the bard asked.

"Are you really a bard?" the young swordsman asked.

"Yes."

"Is it true, what they say? About how bards can control a man with his voice alone?"

Gareth frowned. He wasn't exactly sure about the bard's in this world, but in Yggrdasil, they could command NPCs, enemy monsters, and assorted enemies, depending on their level.

"I can, to an extent," the bard answered cryptically. "But don't worry, I can't make anyone do something they don't want to do, like fall in love with me. Otherwise I would've charmed those bandits into submission." He let out a rather annoying, arrogant sounding giggle, trying to breathe life into his bard persona and hide the fact that he was lying. Gareth wasn't entirely sure what he could fully do with his Bardic Voice, and he wasn't eager to find out or reveal everything about him in one sitting.

Relief appeared on Bruno and Marcus's faces. Allen seemed emotionless, while the two young women in the party gained color in their faces. However, disgust entered Leto's expression.

"How dishonorable!" the young man sniffed.

"What?" Kane said, frowning at the swordsman. The vampire sat between his brother and Randor, with Lydia sitting on the bard's left.

"I said it was dishonorable!" Leto said, a little louder this time. Marcus shushed him and the young man lowered his voice to a softer volume. "To use such underhanded means is cowardly and without honor! A true warrior faces his enemy on the battlefield head on."

**["Oh brother,"]** Kane murmured over **[Message],** throwing an annoyed look at Gareth. The vampire looked back to Leto.

"Oh really?" Kane said. "Just like what you did back there with those bandits? Just _walk_ out into the middle of battle and _demand_ a duel?"

"Yes! True swordsmen prove themselves through duels and single combat! Only a coward uses tricks and magic to win!"

"Leto," Marcus hissed at his companion. "Don't be rude."

"No, no, it's alright," Kane said, waving a hand to the leader of the Adventurers. He sat up straight and fixed the young man with a cold look. "We're just having a friendly discussion about tactics. Please, do go on. Tell me how my brother and I are cowards? We never used magic. We may have used some trickery, but at least we didn't needlessly expose ourselves and almost got ourselves and our friends killed."

Leto's face turned red and he jumped to his feet. "Come on then! Let's go, you and me, a duel!"

"Leto…" Silvia began with a heavy sigh, but went quiet when Kane rose to his feet.

Everyone stared at the vampire in silent awe, who stood a head taller than the young man and looked like a vision of death with his pale features, his dark, dull eyes and flowing night black hair.

Gareth wanted to tell his brother to let it go, but saw the resolve on his brother's face and knew that it'd be futile to try talking him out of it.

"I accept," Kane said curtly. "Prepare yourself for a lesson in humility and the nature of battle, _boy_."

The vampire glided to the edge of the campfire's light, a short distance from the others and the wagon. Leto scooped up his sword and pulled it free from its sheath. The blond young man assumed a fighting stance and glared at his opponent.

Kane, on the other hand, remained calm and emotionless. His hands remained hidden within his voluminous black cloak.

Tension hung in the air between them as the young swordsman seized the vampire up. A cool wind blew through the campsite, causing Kane's cloak to flap lazily like a banner. The world seemed to grow silent, with only the sound of the crackling campfire. Time passed slowly. Gareth watched silently, hoping that everything would turn out fine, and that his brother knew what he was doing.

"Well," Kane said with a faint smile, spreading his arms and cloak wide. "I'm waiting."

Leto gritted his teeth. "Shut up."

"Come now," the vampire mocked, "where's that warrior spirit from earlier? Why, by your own words, you're being a coward for just standing there and doing nothing! A true warrior charges his enemy head on!"

"Shut up!" Leto snarled.

"Don't let him get to you!" Allen warned, watching the two fighters with interest and worry. "Keep calm."

Leto nodded, though Gareth could see that the ranger's words didn't reach him. The young swordsman tightened his grip on his weapon and he shifted his stance a little.

Kane stood there, boredom becoming more apparent in his face.

"Are we going to stand here and stare lovingly into each other's eyes, or are we going to do something?" the vampire demanded.

"Shut up!" Leto declared loudly, and like a viper, he struck.

The young man was a blur of speed. He surged forward, his blade began to glow yellow and in an instant he had closed the gap between the two.

"**[Martial Art: Slashing Strike]**!" Leto shouted. He swung, delivering an glowing slashing arch down on Kane's head.

Silvia, the red haired woman, and Bruno watched with astonishment and worry, but Gareth, Marcus and the rest simply watched in silence.

Leto's glowing blade met its mark but Kane was no longer there. Instead, the vampire was at the swordsman's side, holding a curved, black bladed dagger to his exposed throat.

"How did he…?" Silvia breathed in astonishment.

"Do you yield?" Kane asked, sounding bored.

"Screw you!" The blond young man turned to face the vampire, bringing his blade in an upward, diagonal strike, hoping to catch him. He didn't.

The vampire was no longer there. He was a few steps away from the young man, yawning into his hand. "I'm getting sleepy," he announced.

Leto surged toward Kane, swinging his blade and using the same **[Martial Art]** he used previously. The strike cleaved through the air, sending an arc of golden energy a short distance before fading into nothing. Kane was standing behind the young man, his back practically touching the young man's back.

"If I didn't know any better," Kane said casually, "You appear to have some serious anger issues."

Leto roared angrily and spun around, swinging in a wild arc. Again, he only hit air.

Frustrated, Leto shouted, "Stand and fight you coward!"

"Coward, am I?" Kane cooed directly into the swordsman's ear. "My dear boy, don't you get it yet?"

Leto swung again but this time, his sword made contact with one of the vampire's obsidian short swords. The vampire stood there, holding the young man's strike at bay with a single sword. A grim, serious look was fixed on Kane's face.

"Battles aren't fair," the vampire explained in an even tone. "It's not about some deluded notion of honor and glory. Battles are an ugly mess. It's about survival and when your life's on the line, you fight to win. Forget those notions about honorable duels and whatever 'way of the warrior' nonsense you may have heard because your opponents won't be fighting fair. You have to fight smart otherwise you'll end up dead."

With little effort, Kane drove Leto back, knocking him off balance and with a blur of speed, knocked the young man's blade free from his hand and pushed him to the ground. He aimed his short sword at the young man's throat and gave him a cold, deadly glare.

Leto glared back, but the young man's resolve appeared to wither in the vampire's glare.

A long, tense moment passed and for a moment, everyone worried that either Kane or Leto were going to do something regrettable. Someone began to clap.

Everyone looked and saw that Gareth was standing now, giving the vampire assassin a hearty applause.

"Well done!" he cried. "Well done, both of you! Such an excellent display of martial prowess. Come now, dinner is ready. You both must be famished."

The tension faded and everyone noticed Lydia tending to the rats cooking over the fire, sprinkling seasoning and judging their quality with an experienced eye.

Kane broke his glare and returned his short sword to its sheath at his side. He offered a hand to the young man on the ground, who took one look at it and waved it away.

Leto pushed himself up off the ground and returned to the campfire in a huff, plopping on the ground and grumbled something under his breath.

"You try to be nice…" Kane murmured and returned to his brother's side.

**["Jeez, that was a little intense"]** Gareth said to his brother over **[Message]**.

**["What? He was annoying the shit out of me,"] **Kane replied defensively. **["Besides, someone needed to knock some sense into him. I mean, you saw him out there with the bandits. He's probably going to get someone killed."]**

**["I know, but don't you think you laid it on a little too thick?"]**

Kane gave a small shrug, which no one else seemed to notice. Lydia was keeping them busy by apportioning out the cooked meat to the members of the White Clovers.

Gareth sighed, and as Lydia finished dishing out the rat meat, he gave his brother a look

**["Seriously, maybe give me a heads up next time. I thought you were going to rip his throat open. We all did. I think you even made him pee his pants."]**

Kane grinned, and suppressed a laugh.

The Adventurers and Gareth's group shared a quiet meal. The bard noticed Allen watching Kane intently, questions seemed to be evident on the ranger's face, but he didn't seem to have the courage to voice them. Silvia was chatting with the red haired young woman the Clovers were tasked with escorting. The two seemed to be cheerful and appeared to have forgotten about the bandits already. Leto seemed sullen, but happy to be eating a hot meal, stuffing crispy rat meat into his mouth silently.

As the fire dwindled to a meager flame, the Clovers and Gareth's group settled in for the night. Leto had already laid out his blankets and was fast asleep, snoring loudly and drool beginning to dribble out of the corner of his mouth.

Silvia and the red haired young woman were laying out their blanket rolls close to the wagon, alongside Allen and Bruno. Marcus returned from the bushes and volunteered to take the first watch. Gareth and Kane offered to join him but the adventurer declined.

"We got a long journey ahead, you'll need your rest," the raven haired adventurer said.

"I'm fine," Gareth said with a smile. "Besides, you could probably use the company."

Marcus hesitated for a moment, but accepted Gareth's offer.

Kane, meanwhile, shrugged and bid them goodnight. He went to the edge of the campsite, opposite of the White Clovers, wrapped himself in his cloak and laid down. Lydia and Randor joined him.

Gareth knew that they were pretending to sleep. Although the brothers and the NPCs do need sleep, the four of them didn't feel tired in the slightest, and have gone for more than a day without needing sleep and not felt any side effects.

Once Gareth's companions "retired", the bard sat down by the dying fire, across from Marcus, and unslung his lute. He plucked some of the strings, checking to see if it was in tune. Even in a video game, instruments needed to be kept in tune.

The bard looked to Marcus, who seemed to be watching him. He smiled. "Any requests?"

Marcus smiled, and he shook his head.

"You probably wouldn't know them," the Adventurer said. "How about a song from your lands?"

Gareth nodded. "Alright." The bard thought for a moment, trying to find the appropriate tune and eventually settled on one.

He began to strum his lute, playing a soft, gentle melody, reminiscent of a lullabye. The bard laced his music with a spell of calming and healing, to soothe the White Clovers, allowing them to regain their strength and have pleasant dreams. Immediately, Gareth saw Marcus seem to grow less tense.

"_The road goes ever on and on_" Gareth sang, his voice like silk "_Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the road has gone, and I must follow, if I can…" _

Marcus's eyelids grew heavy and he began to nod off to sleep. Gareth continued his song and by the end, the White Clovers were all fast asleep, including Marcus, who remained sitting up at his post.

The bard sighed and looked at the fire, which was now nothing but faintly glowing embers. He turned his gaze about and looked about the vast landscape that lay ahead of them. Everything seemed quiet and peaceful, and nothing seemed to set off Gareth's senses.

He looked to Kane, Randor and Lydia. The dwarf and the elf were fast asleep too. Kane was sitting up, cleaning his nails with his dagger.

"Now what do we do?" Gareth asked.

"We keep watch," Kane simply replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"For how long?"

"Until morning, dingus."

The bard looked at the lute in his hands and frowned. "I may have overdone it."

"Ya think?"

Kane joined his brother and the two sat by the smoldering remains of the campfire and waited in the stillness and silence, waiting for morning to come.

* * *

Morning greeted Maggie bright and clear. The young redhead yawned loudly as she sat up. She rubbed her eyes and looked about. She was alone by the wagon. Silvia, Bruno, and the rest of the White Clovers were tending to the morning fire, cooking what smelled like bacon and sausages. It took a moment for her to remember the events of the previous evening.

The journey home from Azuras, the ambush, and the rescue by Gareth the bard and his party. Maggie blushed at the memory of how the handsome blond man rescued Leto and drove off the bandits. He looked so heroic, brave, and confident.

"Good morning!" a cheerful voice greeted her.

Maggie blinked, still a little drowsy and dazed, and looked up. Standing there, holding a small wooden bowl of sausages, bacon and cheese, was none other than the man who saved them from certain death, Gareth Silvertongue.

The young woman instinctively pulled her close to her body, trying to shield herself, but remembered that she was still wearing the clothes she wore yesterday and felt a little foolish.

"S-Sir Gareth," Maggie greeted him lamely.

"Please, it's just Gareth," the bard said with a friendly smile. "I'm no knight, so don't worry about any formalities or titles. I'm just a wandering musician with not a penny to my name."

"Right," she said softly.

He offered her the bowl of food. "Eat up. From what Marcus was saying, we got quite a journey ahead of us."

She accepted the bowl gladly, trying not to make it obvious that she was starving. She thanked him and as he turned to leave, Maggie blurted out, "I liked your song."

Gareth paused, and looked back at her. "Hm?"

"Your song," Maggie said, softer this time. "I-I really liked it. It was beautiful."

The bard frowned in confusion, but a moment later, realization crossed his face.

"Oh, uh, thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it. It's an old favorite of mine. My grandfather taught it to me."

Maggie smiled, which felt like a warm summer breeze. "I hope to hear more of your music."

Gareth nodded, giving her a warm smile in return. "Maybe you will. Now eat, we're leaving soon."

The redhead nodded and dug into her food, savoring every bite and watching as the bard walked away, his forest green cloak flapping in the morning breeze. For a moment, the young woman imagined that the bard was one of those heroes who the singers sang about and whose names were passed down from generation to generation, becoming legends.

Maggie shook her head free from the ever increasingly distracting thoughts and resumed eating. There wasn't time to daydream, and there was plenty to do.

Within an hour, Maggie, the White Clovers, and Gareth's party broke camp, doused the campfire, and were back on the road, heading back to Arven.

The sky was a peach color as the sun slowly rose in the sky. The air was still cool from the night, and the grass gleamed with fresh dew.

The wagon rattled up the rough dirt road, bouncing off of various rocks and bumps along the way. Maggie sat beside Silvia, keeping a tight hold on the reins. Although she tried to remain focused on the way ahead, the redhead's thoughts couldn't help but turn back toward the bard and his companions.

To call them astonishing would be an understatement. The way they arrived and drove off those bandits was nothing short of incredible. Their skills were something to behold. The man in black, Kane was his name if she remembered correctly, was so fast when he dueled with Leto at the camp. She felt a shiver run down her spine. Though she was grateful for his assistance, something about him made her feel unsettled. He was handsome and had an almost hypnotic voice, but there was something there that made her stomach turn.

Maggie glanced sideways and saw the burly, raven haired dwarf walking alongside the wagon with the silver haired elf. She didn't see what they were capable of, but if they traveled with the likes of Gareth and Kane, they must be quite skillful as well. The redhead wondered how the four of them met. They were a peculiar group of Adventurers: two humans, a dwarf and an elf. Dwarves kept to themselves and mainly interacted with the people of the Empire through trade and the occasional feast or diplomatic mission. Very few could boast a close friendship with the dwarves, save for a few individuals like General Zirdam Ginostus of the Imperial Army, who was also one of the few men who could call Emperor Jircniv a friend.

The redhead began to ponder and imagine what sort of circumstances these four peculiar individuals would have met. She heard how they were from a land called "Yggdrasil." She'd never heard of such a land. Growing up, she helped her father with his tavern, the Green Dragon, and had heard stories of distant lands and strange far off countries, but nothing regarding a place called Yggdrasil. It must be very far indeed for the Adventurers and merchants who passed through the inn to have never mentioned it. However, if Kane's description of it was correct, then the tavern's regulars probably wouldn't want to be there, and if they did, they would sooner wish to forget about it.

Even so, how could such a dreary sounding place have produced such a charming and handsome man like Gareth?

"What're you daydreaming about?" Silvia asked suddenly, pulling Maggie from her thoughts.

Maggie jumped a little. "N-nothing!" she said quickly.

"You're thinking of Gareth, aren't you?" the mage asked with a knowing smile.

"What? No, no, no!" the redhead sputtered.

"It's okay," Silvia chuckled, "because I'm thinking of him too."

"You are?"

"Yeah, I mean, he's handsome and he saved our lives. Plus, he saved Leto from that bandit." She glanced over her shoulder, as did Maggie.

Trailing behind them were Gareth and Kane. The bard seemed relaxed as he kept pace with the wagon, plucking a lively tune on his lute.

"He just seems so...perfect" Silvia said admiringly. "Handsome, brave, kind...he's like something out of a fairy tale."

"Yeah," Maggie murmured under her breath. The two stared at the bard for what seemed like a long time, until he noticed them staring and he waved at them.

The two spun around and tried to focus on the road ahead, although they found it difficult to do so.

Morning gradually evolved into midday when the city of Arven appeared on the horizon.

Although she'd lived in Arven her entire life, Maggie never got used to the sight of the city.

The city rose from the rolling green fields like a flower sprouting from the earth. Surrounded by high, thick walls of stone, were the narrow streets and brick buildings that Maggie was familiar with. Sitting in the center of the city, surrounded by the tiled roofs of homes and buildings, was the enormous, formidable fortress of Arven. Long before it became a hub of trade in the western region of Baharuth, Arven was a fortified settlement that acted as the Empire's western most outpost and a shield against the threats that down from the Azerlisia Mountains and the forests that skirted the base of the towering range. The fortress had stood for generations, and will probably stand for many more. As the group neared the city, Maggie couldn't help but look up in awe at the fortress looming over the city, reminding everyone that although the nobility were gone, the Bloody Emperor still reigned supreme and his rule was absolute.

Despite his nickname and dark reputation, Emperor Jircniv was popular among the people. The ancient noble houses that ruled the Empire were greedy and cruel, but ever since the new emperor's ascension, people of all classes had an opportunity to carve out a better life and rise through the ranks on their own merits, which was beneficial for Maggie's family and countless others who lived in Arven.

At the front gates, the city guard stepped forward to meet them. Maggie silently hoped that James and his men were the ones on duty, but was disappointed to see that they weren't. The men who stopped and questioned them of their intentions and cargo were the ones she had hoped to avoid.

Most men among the City Guard were friendly and hard working people, with some of them even being good friends with Maggie's father, but there were some who were rude, unpleasant, and downright awful. The ones inspecting her wagon were of the latter. The captain of the men at the gate was a sullen looking man with a moustache a perpetual frown on his face. He spoke with Marcus, and regarded the Adventurer with contempt. After a few minutes of thorough searching and questioning, the captain and his men allowed them to pass, but not before one of them sneered at Leto and rudely bumped into Allen.

The redhead scowled. She wanted to tell the guards off for looking down on her friends. She hated how Adventurers were treated in Baharuth, and wanted to say something. These people risked their lives to keep her safe, and they certainly deserved more respect than what they were currently receiving, but she wisely kept quiet. Maggie knew it was pointless, and that she'd only get herself and the White Clovers into trouble.

Maggie snapped the reins and the wagon rolled forward. As she passed through the gate, she heard the captain bark.

"Halt!"

She glanced back and saw that the mustachioed man and his subordinates were blocking Gareth, Kane, Lydia, and Randor from entering.

"I've never seen you lot around," she heard the captain say suspiciously.

"That's because we're new here," Gareth answered cheerfully. "You see, we're strangers in this land, and we're hoping to see more of your interesting country.

Maggie didn't hear what the captain said, but she assumed that it wasn't nice. She wanted to turn around and argue with the guards to let them through, but Silvia placed a hand on her arm.

"They'll be fine," the mage assured her. "Come now, we have to get you home. Your father and mother will be worried."

"Oh," Maggie said, blinking. "Right." With all the excitement they've had on the journey home, the redhead forgot about her father. They were supposed to have arrived a day ago, but were delayed by the ambush and by a last minute deal in Azuras. Silvia was right. He must be worried sick. The wagon trundled on and entered the crowded, busy street and made its way toward the Green Dragon tavern.

* * *

As Silvia, Maggie and the others entered the city, Gareth and Kane dealt with the surly captain.

"So what brings you to our fair city?" the moustachioed soldier sniffed, giving off an air of self-importance and pride.

"Oh little of this, little of that," Gareth answered, smiling. "Like I told you, we're strangers here and we wish to see more of your country."

"Why's that?" asked one of the men standing beside the moustached guard.

"I am a bard by trade," the blond man explained and gestured to his companions. "And these fine fellows are my companions."

"Oh yeah?" sneered another guard, adjusting his dirty tunic and aged sword belt. "Give us a song then. How about _The Ballad of the Black Knight_?"

"Or how about _Song of the Silver Paladin_?" chimed another.

Kane scowled. It was pretty obvious that these guards were just screwing with them. With each little snide comment and with each look of that stupid, irritable looks of arrogant superiority, the vampire was on the verge of exploding on them. He, however, bit his tongue and kept quiet. These assholes weren't worth it.

_Just keep quiet and it'll all be over soon,_ Kane told himself. His anger faded a little bit, but his temper flared again when he noticed one of the guards giving Lydia the elevator eyes.

"What do we have here?" the leering guard hooted. "Take a look at this one. She's an elf!"

The captain and the other guards turned their gazes toward the silver haired elf. A look crossed the moustachioed captain's features that made Kane's gut turn.

"Aren't you a pretty thing?" the captain leered. He walked over to Lydia and began looking her over. A look of disgust formed on Lydia, but she kept still.

"Where'd you come by this one?" the captain asked Gareth. "The capital? They always get the finer ones up at the markets there."

"Markets?" Gareth repeated with a frown.

"Look at her ears," said one of the men, pointing at Lydia's pair. "Probably from Eight Fingers. The Theocracy's merchants cut off their ears to break their spirits."

Kane frowned, unsure at first at what they were talking about, but it didn't take long for the vampire to put two and two together. They think that Lydia was a slave of some sort and from the sound of things, elves were a commodity in this country. This information only made Kane grow more disgusted and angry.

Back home, life was tough everywhere, but the one thing that people from their country could take pride in was that their freedom was still intact. In some parts of the world, corporations had a stranglehold over peoples rights and treated them like property. One of his closest friends from work had grown up overseas, and had endured such a lifestyle. The stories he told still haunted Kane, and these perverse scumbags were talking about Lydia like she was nothing more than a piece of meat. The vampire's long, pale fingers curled up into a fist in an attempt to keep calm, but was failing when he overheard one of the guards whisper to his friend, "I'd give a year's pay just for a few minutes with her."

"I have a proposal" the captain said, turning to Gareth "I'll forget all about this, in fact, I'll give you a personal tour of our city and introduce you to the governor himself. The old man is always quite fond of bards and traveling players."

"...In exchange for?" Gareth asked slowly, all mirth gone from his face.

"Your elf," the moustachioed man said boldly. "I'll even compensate you." He reached behind him and pulled a fat leather pouch off his belt, and tossed it to Gareth.

The bard caught it and opened it. Inside, the bag was filled with glittering gold coins. The captain and his men were all so focused on Lydia that none of them paid attention to either of the brothers or to Randor. A dark expression crossed the bard's angelic features, and Kane's eyes burned crimson. Randor, meanwhile, gripped his axe and looked like he was about to start a massacre.

A moment passed and it was Gareth who spoke.

"No," the bard said simply.

"Hm?" the captain said, spinning on his heel to face Gareth.

"I don't think so," Gareth said, an unpleasant smile found its way onto his face. "I don't need your ill gotten gains, and I don't deal with vermin like you."

He pulled open the bag and dumped the coins onto the ground, before tossing the bag aside.

The moustachioed captain and his men stared at Gareth for a moment, before an ugly smile appeared on their faces.

"Is that so?" the captain sneered, reaching for his sword. "Well then, I'll just have to have you locked in the dungeon and your...contraband taken from you. I mean, it's fairly obvious that a man like you couldn't afford such a fine elf. You must've stolen her."

"You're welcomed to try," the bard giggled, spreading his empty hands wide. "But, I'm afraid that you'll already have your hands full, what with your men senselessly attacking you and trying to kill you."

The captain let out a full bellied laugh but was cut off when he saw a flash of silver and he ducked aside just in time as one of his men brought his sword down on his captain.

"What the hell, Brax?!" the captain demanded. "What was that fo-" Before he could finish his question, one of his other men lunged at him with a spear, and tore at his tunic, his weapon glancing off the chainmail underneath.

Very soon, the guards, numbering four in total, had gathered around their captain, and began attacking with their weapons. The captain drew his sword and managed to fend off a few of his men, before receiving a nasty cut on his arm.

"What has gotten into all of you?!" the captain screamed, sweat forming on his brow and panic beginning to set in.

"I-I don't know," one of the men cried. "I-I can't control my body!"

"M-me too!" another one of his men screamed.

The captain rounded on Gareth and the others, who were standing outside the circle of guards, watching. The moustachioed man grew pale at the sight of the bard's face. Kane looked and was just as surprised to see a deeply unsettling smile fixed on his brother's face.

"What have you done to my men?" the captain asked

"Nothing." Gareth shrugged. "They're merely showing their true colors."

"W-what?"

"Although you wear the colors of your liege and swore oaths to serve and protect this city, I know that deep down, you're all rotten, lying hypocrites. It's like they say: 'No honor amongst thieves.'"

Before the captain could fully grasp what Gareth was getting at, two of his men struck. The captain batted aside one attack, but received a dagger to the side. All the wind got knocked out of the moustachioed man. He grabbed at his attacker and tried to push himself free, but found another blade, this time in his shoulder. The captain screamed in pain.

Kane looked at his brother. "Okay, I think he's learned his lesson now" the vampire whispered.

"Not yet," the bard said darkly. "He has to learn his lesson"

"What lesson?"

"Trust me."

"But-"

Gareth looked at Kane and the vampire saw that the bard was calm, focused, and serious.

"Trust me."

Kane frowned at the bard, before he let out a drawn out sigh. "Fine."

The bard patted his brother on the shoulder, and then he approached the captain, who was currently pinned in place (literally) by his own subordinates.

As he drew close, the soldiers struggled desperately to regain control of their limbs and to escape but failed. They could only watch helplessly as the bard approached.

"Now, I can honestly tell that none of you are fond of stories and songs," Gareth spoke, his voice was soft, but was clear enough for everyone there to hear. "But beneath the flowery prose and snappy tunes, there are timeless truths that act as a warning and guidance for future generations. Allow me to share one."

"H-help me," the captain moaned in anguish. "I-I'm dying."

"Nonsense! I've seen worse. But don't worry, I won't yammer on too long. Essentially, where my brother and I are from, we are taught to treat others with kindness and respect. Do you know why?"

"Please…" the captain whimpered.

"Do you know _why?_" Gareth asked, a little louder.

"...Why?"

"'For you may be entertaining angels unawares,'" the bard quoted solemnly.

The captain and his men looked confused, but quickly grew astonished when they saw Gareth's eyes beginning to glow a bright, brilliant blue.

"Oh gods…" the captain wheezed.

"Save your breath," Gareth said coldly, "For I have looked upon your soul, and have seen all your sins. Make peace with your gods, for you shall go to meet them. All of you."

The captain's eyes grew wide and frantic, as did the others. They began to beg and plead, but with a small gesture, they all raised their weapons. All of them were poised to deliver the killing blow and turn on each other.

"Hey! What's going on down there!" a voice called out from the battlement above them.

"Oh, thank the gods!" Gareth cried out in horror, stepping away from the guards and assumed a frightened, cowering pose. "You have to come quick! These men have gone mad and have begun to attack each other. I-I tried to stop them but they wouldn't listen. Please send help quickly, I think one of them might be dying!"

There were shouts and movement coming from above, and in moments a dozen new soldiers appeared and rushed onto the scene.

The captain's men were pulled off their commander and the injured man was rushed to a healer. As the soldiers carried the mustachioed man through the gate, he watched the black cloaked figure speaking with his subordinates. Each of the frightened men looked like they grew drowsy, and were nodding along slowly to the man's words. The bard, meanwhile, was watching him go.

The angelic man's eyes glowed like sapphire stars and with a gesture of his hand, the captain felt his body beginning to grow extremely hot and his mind began to twist, and everything went red.

* * *

After being briefly questioned by the new guard squad, Gareth, Kane, Lydia, and Randor were permitted entrance to the city. As they followed the road in, the four passed the guard shack where the sleazy captain was carried off to. Inside, they could hear the man screaming madly and thrashing about, followed by another man calling for restraints. The bard was silent, and felt deeply ashamed of himself.

He swore to himself that he wanted to exercise restraint with his new powers. He sensed that they would be too dangerous to use on other people, which is why he went easy on the bandits. But when they met that man and his subordinates, something within him changed. They were perverse and corrupt, their leader was the worst amongst them, which was why he struck him with the **[Bestow Curse]** spell and drove him mad. Some angel he was.

Gareth didn't need to use his Karma Sense to know what those men were planning to do and what they intended to do. When he _did_ use it, however, what he saw was sickening. It was like using a pair of X-Ray glasses, except instead of a skeleton, the bard saw their true selves, their innermost thoughts and their darkest desires. It made him want to vomit. It made him want to take a molten hot shower and scrub every inch of himself off. To say that those men were corrupt would be an understatement.

They made the bandits from the night before look saintly by comparison.

Part of him tried to reason with himself to go easy on them, to maybe scare them or just use his Bardic Voice to slip past them, but he couldn't. He knew full well what these men were going to do. They'd just carry on like business as usual, which would very likely involve extorting people, bullying those who can't or won't defend themselves, and, judging from their reactions to Lydia, would slink off to find some poor unfortunate elf to "play" with. Which was why he had to teach them a lesson, show them that there was someone who didn't put up with their shit, that they weren't top dogs. Far from it.

Gareth shook his head and tried to regain focus on the here and now. They were in an actual city in a new world! Not many could say that with a straight face.

The dirt road leading from the front gate became smooth and paved with stone as they passed through a second gate that separated the city from the military barracks and training grounds. On the other side, the four companions were greeted by the sight of a clean and well populated city.

The roads were smooth and evenly paved with lampposts and trees lining them. The houses were of a fine quality, composed of brick and topped off with tiled roofs. The road they were on ran straight up a broad thoroughfare that led up to the next wall and up to the fortress at the center of the street. The two brothers shared a look, before pressing onward.

Gareth kept his head on a swivel. He wanted to drink in the sights and see all that there was to see. Although this city looked very primitive in comparison to their home world, the bard was impressed. He half expected muddy roads, thatched huts, and carts full of dung. Instead, he found a clean and organized city. It would've truly been amazing, had it not been for what he saw in those guards' souls and that whole fiasco.

While he couldn't see explicitly what goes on in their heads, he could sense that they were fairly confident and were pleased to be part of something greater. Meaning that those men weren't alone. There were probably more of them.

_Of course there are,_ Gareth thought bitterly.

"My lord Gareth?" a gentle voice spoke.

Gareth looked up and saw Lydia walking beside him.

"Yes?"

"I-I just wanted to say...thank you." She said softly. "For what you did, and I-I don't wish to sound ungrateful, but I could've handled it myself."

Gareth gave her a genuine smile. "Nonsense! I couldn't bear the thought of those...creatures getting their hands on you. While I am confident that you could've handled them yourself, someone had to teach them a lesson."

"Of course," Lydia said with a smile.

The four carried on up the sidewalk, following the road deeper into the city, as a great big cart lumbered by at hasty speed. Gareth glanced sideways and saw that in the back of the cart was a large cage. Packed tightly within the cage were dirty, smelly, and starving elves.

Gareth's eyes widened in shock at the state of them. Packed in so tightly together like sardines, there wasn't enough room to sit or lay down. They all stood, cramped together. Some stuck their thin, bony limbs out through the gaps between the bars. He could sense a riot of emotions radiating from the cage like heat from a sun at noon: misery, hopelessness, fear, pain. What caught his eyes were the ears. A scattered few within the cage had pointed ears, which was what belied their origins, but the majority had the pointed parts of their ears clipped off.

The bard's eyes were fixed to the cart until it vanished around a corner. It was then that awful feeling returned. Something deep in his gut told him that this was wrong and that something had to be done. Gareth took a deep breath and told Lydia to keep close to him. She nodded, and they hurried after Kane and Randor. Something will be done and soon. First, they had to find lodgings, and then they needed to get to know this city a little better.

* * *

A few minutes after they had arrived, Gareth and the others quickly got lost. None within their party could read the strange language on the various signs they passed. They tried entering each building that resembled an inn, but found themselves in a shop of some sort. The customers stared at them and when Gareth asked for directions to an inn, explaining that they're newcomers, the directions they got were vague or hard to understand.

The four had departed the wide thoroughfare, and were winding their way through narrow streets and back alleys. Along the way, Kane got an uneasy sensation in his gut. He sniffed the air and could smell the musk of sweaty men and old ale. In the corner of his eye he spied shapes lurking in shadowy corners and heads poking out from behind walls. The vampire kept a hand close to his daggers. Considering that this whole trip had been filled with unsavory encounters, he expected another inevitable unpleasant encounter.

Gareth, Kane, Randor, and Lydia emerged from a narrow lane and found themselves on an old looking and noticeably quieter street. The street beneath them was made of older looking stones and had wheel ruts worn into them. The buildings were visibly older, weather beaten, and sunbleached, with some roofs noticeably missing tiles or had holes in them. Up the street there were some children playing with sticks and laughing.

Looking about, Gareth spied a sign hanging outside a humble, two story building closeby. The sign was cracked and had faded green and gold paint on it. The bard led the party to this building. Kane frowned and hoped for it to be an inn. The sign reminded him of the _Bronze Ox_, though this one looked to be in worse shape. Half the letters were faded and the only legible thing on the sign was the dragon that was painted on. He could tell that it was originally gold though it was now mostly yellow, judging from the fresh paint job it got.

"Here goes nothing," Gareth said with a sigh. He reached for the door and opened it.

The interior was very much what Kane would expect from a medieval fantasy inn. A low ceiling held up ancient wooden beams, and stubby candles sat in sconces on the walls and on the scattered empty tables. The interior was faintly lit by the scant candles and by the wide window next to the door, which allowed warm sunlight to filter in. To their left, there was the bar, which stood in front of a wall of barrels, all with names and images painted on them. In front of them was a large, portly man cleaning out a pewter tankard with a rag. The man had rosey cheeks and red hair that was losing its color.

"Be with you in a moment," the man said to the new arrivals without looking up. He looked at the man sitting across from him on the barstool. "Okay and then what happened?"

"And then Leto, for some unknown reason, abandoned cover and stepped out into the field and confronted Brudar!" the man explained energetically.

"He did what?!" the man exclaimed, his face growing pale. He looked at the one sitting at the far end of the bar.

Kane let out an annoyed sigh. "Oh God…" the vampire murmured under his breath.

"I was merely taking the initiative!" Leto argued, puffing himself up. "A true warrior doesn't hide, and he always seizes every opportunity that comes his way."

"Be nearly getting yourself and the rest of us killed," Silvia chimed in, who was sitting beside him, sipping from a mug.

"I was not going to die! I had it all well in hand!" Leto said defensively

"Really?" Gareth spoke up, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Because I could've sworn that that bandit had you disarmed, and was on the verge of splitting you open."

Everyone turned and Gareth stepped into the light, he removed his cap and smiled.

"Gareth!" Silvia squeaked.

"The one and only!" the bard said with a slight bow. "It took us a while but we finally found you, after you ditched us at the gate."

"We didn't ditch you," Allen defended. "We just had business to take care of. Besides, we know you could handle yourselves."

Gareth laughed nervously while Kane scowled.

"Yes, well, we had quite the-er-experience at the gate. That man with the mustache. I don't think he liked me very much."

An odd silence fell on the tavern, with some of the White Clovers sharing looks with each other and the bartender, whose expression darkened.

"I'm sorry about that," the rosy faced man said. "That was Darius. Him and his boys oversee the front gate. Though they're part of the City Guard, they act like common thugs. They like to push travelers around and try to squeeze some extra coins out of them."

_Not anymore,_ Kane thought coldly.

"So what brings you here to the Green Dragon?" Marcus asked, turning around to face them.

"Other than to bid you a proper goodbye" Gareth explained. "We were actually just wandering around and hoping to find a place to spend the night."

"Well, wander no more," the bartender said with a grin. "We have some extra rooms available, if you have the coin."

"Come on, Sam" Allen complained "You don't have to do that. Why not let them stay the night for free. After all, they saved our lives, including Maggie's!"

Kane cocked an eyebrow. So this was Maggie's father, the one who hired the White Clovers.

"I wish I could," the portly man said, sounding sincerely apologetic, "but business has been slow for us, especially now that the governor has raised taxes and those new laws have been slowly driving away all my old customers, who happen to be Adventurers."

Gareth went silent and Kane knew that his brother was trying to come up with an excuse or an idea to pay for their stay without actually paying and helping the bartender out. Fortunately, the vampire thought ahead.

Kane approached the bar. Reaching into the folds of his cloak, the vampire withdrew a fist full of gold coins and he placed them on the counter in a small mound, numbering twenty even.

"Would this do?" the vampire asked gruffly.

The bartender's eyes shot up and the adventurers sitting at the bar looked on with surprise.

"Y-Yes, of course" the bartender said, his surprise melting into joy. "Of course! Welcome to the Green Dragon!"

Kane nodded his thanks and pulled himself a seat at one of the tables near the bar. It was a good thing that he swiped some of Darius's coins from off the ground before they entered the city. Never know when they'd need money.

Gareth, Lydia, and Randor joined him at the table and Sam the bartender brought them each a mug of frothy ale. Though the vampire still had a lot of energy, he was weary of the journey and of all the excitement they had endured thus far. He thanked the bartender and took a sip. The sticky, sweet taste of the drink soothed him only a little but did nothing else. His vampiric body was immune to poisons, being an undead and all.

So much for a relaxing vacation.

"So, what do you intend to do while you're here?" Marcus asked.

Gareth, in the middle of a sip, tossed a look to his brother and the vampire answered for him.

"Take in the sights of this city, resupply, and maybe move on in a few days." Kane explained in a clipped tone. He really didn't feel like talking right now, and he didn't know what they were really going to do, so he listed off whatever came to mind, stuff that he and his brother had discussed previously.

Marcus nodded slowly and, after a few moments of silence, asked, "Have you considered joining the Adventurer's Guild?"

"We have not." Gareth said, finishing his sip and wiping away the foam from his lips.

"Why should we?" Kane asked bluntly

"Although Adventurer's aren't very popular here in the Empire, they still have some rights and privileges." Marcus explained. "For instance, they free to travel about in any country where they are welcome without worrying about imprisonment"

"For now," Allen murmured.

"And you could truly make a difference," Marcus continued. "A party with your skills could prove to the Empire that Adventurers are necessary."

"Aye." Sam nodded in agreement.

Gareth and Kane shared a look. Kane really didn't want to do this. He just wanted to keep his head down and just live in peace. However, there was a part of him that wanted to explore this world further, see what else there is to see and have adventures. The vampire exhaled, and felt like he was going to regret this.

"We'll consider it," Kane said.

"As long as our party gets a good name," Gareth added.

"What sort of name would you want?" Silvia asked.

Kane looked at his brother, who was stroking his chin thoughtfully. If it were up to him, the vampire would've decided on something silly or boring just so he can have some peace. Fortunately, Gareth was into this whole "medieval fantasy land adventure" crap more than he was.

Eventually, the bard snapped his fingers, and he declared, "The Good Companions! That will be our name. In honor of our old friends, right Kane?"

The vampire thought for a moment, trying the name out in his mind, before he nodded. It was the name of their guild before it officially became one. All the way back when they were just a bunch of new players finding their footing in Yggdrasil, having fun and role playing as a band of adventurers in a fantasy world. It was perfect.

Kane smiled, though his good mood soured as he sensed that they were being watched. He glanced sideways toward the window, and saw a figure standing outside, across from the tavern. The figure's form reminded the vampire of that first group of bandits that tried to ambush them last night. Though he couldn't see exact details, Kane could see a pale-green aura surrounding a humanoid figure. Although he couldn't see exactly who or what it was, the vampire could hear a steady heartbeat and picked up a faint, flowery odor. A type of perfume, maybe?

Whoever it was, they just made Kane angry, and he was in no mood to deal with spies and observers, let alone a bunch of rapey guards and bandits. This vacation was beginning to suck more and more.

* * *

**(a/n: So, what do you think? I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! The lyrics to Gareth's song is from "The Road Goes Ever On" otherwise known as "A Walking Song" by J.R.R. Tolkien. There's a version of it sung by the Tolkien Ensemble on Youtube. Anyways, tell me what you think and until next time. See you around!)**


	7. That's Life

**(a/n: I hope you enjoy this chapter. Leave a review and all that. Big thanks to Lucius Walker for all his help.)**

* * *

Ch. 7: That's Life

Morning arrived bright and clear. Gareth awoke, feeling disoriented for a moment. He sat up in his bed and looked about him. He was in an unfamiliar room with bare, white walls. The only furnishings were the wardrobe in the corner in the room and the bed next to his, which was currently occupied by his brother. The vampire was snoring softly and had his covers wrapped around him tightly. The bard frowned, and thought for a moment. The haze of sleep slowly ebbed away, and his memories of the last two days returned.

_Right,_ Gareth thought to himself.

They had set out from the Bronze Ox to explore and gather information of the world beyond their new home. Then there were bandits, the White Clovers, and then a bunch of creepy guards, and then the Green Dragon.

Gareth recalled how they spent the rest of the afternoon talking with the members of White Clover and with Sam. They shared drinks and swapped tales, albeit in a rather one-sided way - Gareth and Kane mostly sat and listened. This Adventurer party was a wellspring of information about this new world, which could come in handy, especially if this world was filled with dangers and people like those guards who tried to take Lydia.

After a few drinks, Marcus produced a map and showed them the layout of the known world, at least part of it. The map focused on a single continent and displayed the borders of the human kingdoms and their neighbors, with the Kingdom of Re-Estize and Baharuth sitting in the middle, detailed and clearly defined. From what Gareth could gather from their discussion, Re-Estize was Baharuth's primary rival in the region. It was a monarchy ruled over by a king, with a noble class beneath him and their military strength comes from an army of peasant levies. Though prosperous and strong, Re-Estize was infamous for its corruption, from the scheming nobles to a shady criminal organization that has a finger in every pie, including the slave and drug trade.

Hearing about them reminded Gareth of some of the troubles back home, though those organizations were evolved and were infinitely more sinister and dangerous than these guys. Still, Re-Estize did have one thing going for it, and that was the outlawing of slavery. It was all thanks to the king's daughter, Princess Renner, otherwise known as the Golden Princess.

Then there was Baharuth, another large power struggling for dominance in this New World. While Gareth was a little more up to speed on things, he did pick up a few new tidbits. The Empire was significantly more advanced than their rival, their army was a full time professional army, well equipped and well paid. The Empire rewarded citizens based on their talent and their merits, which was a big win to Re-Estize's medieval mindset. The only major drawback was the legality of slavery. The Adventurers grew hesitant talking about it, and from the sound of Sam and Marcus's comments, they vehemently were against it but there wasn't much anyone could do about it, save for the Emperor, and even then there was this shadowy criminal organization from Re-Estize. Rumor has it that they have operatives in Baharuth, operating legally as members of the slave market, slowly rebuilding their influence. The Bloody Emperor's violent purge of the old nobility greatly weakened any official support they had enjoyed in the past, but some of them managed to slip through his nets, and were merely biding their time.

To the south of the two was the Slane Theocracy. None of the White Clovers nor Sam were familiar with that particular country, but they have heard stories and news from the region. They were strong in all sorts of magic, with holy magic being their speciality. Currently, they were at war with the Elf Kingdom, far to the south of everyone, where most of the enslaved elves came from. Gareth was unsettled by the information, but such things had happened in their home planet's past, and it gave him some ideas. When questioned about the state of Adventurers there, Marcus admitted that they were even less friendly than Baharuth and were pretty adamant about it. Overall, the bard decided that the Theocracy was one place that he wanted to avoid.

There was the Dragon Kingdom to the east of the Theocracy and was currently locked in a vicious war with a horde of invading beastmen invading from the east. Both the Empire and the Theocracy had pledged and committed whatever resources they had available to their defense. Adventurers were more than welcome to join in the fight, but only those of a high enough skill rank, Platinum or even higher, were likely to to survive. Some say that those beastmen were even more ferocious than the ones from the Albelion Hills. When Sam told them that the queen of that kingdom was a dragon, Gareth almost snorted but then he saw the seriousness of the tavern keeper's face, the bard swallowed.

Dragons exist in this world. Oh joy.

If the dragons in this world were anything like the ones in Yggdrasil, then Gareth and Kane _really _needed to lay low. Dragons were among the toughest enemies one could battle in the game, and it took a lot of time and effort to kill them. The rewards for killing them were well worth it, as they dropped all sorts of loot, like data crystals and gold. Their remains were highly prized, since they were critical components for various high level items, gear, and potions.

As their conversation dragged on to dusk, Gareth scribbled down some notes with a quill and a scroll he brought along for such purposes. He wrote it in English, and hoped nobody could read it. He had taken another language years ago and used it only when conversing with some of the members of his guild online, but he quickly fell out of practice.

Marcus and the rest of White Clovers paid for their drinks, bid Gareth and Kane farewell, and shambled off into the deepening night. Maggie then showed them to their rooms. The redhead was surprised to see Gareth and the others. Shortly after they had arrived, she emerged from the backrooms to inform her father of how their supplies were faring. When she saw the two brothers sitting at their table, the redhead paused, before growing very flushed.

The redhead didn't say much after that. She brought Marucs and the others their drinks and occasionally chimed in on their discussions regarding the group's discussion about the Empire and the other nations. Maggie's inputs were insightful and interesting, but she kept fairly quiet and averted her gaze from the bard for some reason.

Once the White Clovers left, the tavern keeper's daughter showed Gareth and Kane to their room. Before she showed Randor and Lydia to their room, Maggie thanked the two brothers for rescuing her and the others.

"No thanks are necessary." Gareth smiled, putting on his persona. "It's the duty of a wandering bard to lend a hand from time to time, especially to fair young maidens like yourself."

Maggie's face went red. She bid them goodnight and hurried off to show the dwarf and the elf where they were staying, leaving the bard confused and a little worried that he had offended her somehow.

Gareth's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, prompting the bard to hop out of bed. Dressed in only a loose white cotton shirt and his trousers, he went and answered the door. Standing outside, he saw Maggie. The redhead paused and she looked at him up and down, her face grew very white. "I-I'm so sorry!" she said suddenly, turning away. "I didn't mean to intrude!"

"Intrude?" the bard said softly. "It's alright, you weren't intruding. What can I do for you, Maggie?"

"My father wished me to inform you that breakfast is ready," she told him, facing away from the bard and trying not to look at him. "And-and that I will be your guide for today."

Gareth raised an eyebrow and leaned against the doorframe. "Really?"

"Y-yes. My father heard you say that you got lost yesterday, and that you are new to our city. He felt it best that I should show you around and to help you avoid some of the more...unsavory areas."

"Unsavory?"

Maggie nodded, and her expression turned serious. "Yes. Although our city is well protected and orderly, it does have its share of problems and individuals that you do not wish to cross."

"I understand." Gareth nodded. A thought came to his mind and the words just slipped out. "So I guess that we get to spend more time together."

Maggie tensed up, and she nodded quickly "I-I suppose so. Now get dressed and hurry downstairs before your breakfast turns cold!" She turned on her heel and left a little too quickly.

The bard watched her go and shrugged. He closed the door and he got dressed, pulling on his chainmail shirt, orange doublet, and forest green cloak. When he was dressed, he turned to his brother, who was still fast asleep. Gareth poked Kane's cheek. The vampire remained still and continued to snore. The bard tried again, this time a little harder and uttered his brother's name. Kane stirred, waving a hand but remained fast asleep. Gareth sighed, and he began to shake his brother awake. Kane's eyes snapped open as he sat up.

"What the hell man?" the vampire grumbled, his eyes were a deeper shade of red.

"Come on, breakfast time!" Gareth told him cheerfully. "And we're going to go register for the Adventurer's Guild!"

"Ugh, do we need to?" Kane grumbled. "We kick ass fine enough without having to register for some sort of club that's currently on some genocidal emperor's shit list."

"We don't, but it'll be a fun experience! Besides, if we become Adventurers, we'll get to travel the world without being hassled as much, make money and maybe gather additional information."

The vampire scowled at his brother, sleep still evident on his marble expression. His raven hair was wild and frazzled, and Gareth gagged at the smell of his brother's breath. Kane sighed deeply and scratched himself.

"Fine," he said at last. "Whatever. I've got nothing better going on. Might be fun...I guess."

"That's the spirit!" Gareth smiled. "Now get dressed, breakfast is waiting."

The vampire sniffed the air, and his expression brightened. He threw off his blanket and hurried to get dressed. When they were both dressed and packed, the two brothers left their room. In the hall, Randor and Lydia fell in behind them.

"Good morning my lords!" Randor greeted with a smile. "I hope you've rested well"

"We have, Randor, thank you," Gareth said with a nod. "How was yours?"

"Excellent!" the dwarf answered, beaming. "I slept two whole hours!"

Kane frowned, and glanced at Gareth, who looked at the dwarf with some concern.

"Don't-don't you feel tired?" the bard asked, concerned.

"Nope!" the dwarf replied. "I don't need much sleep, my lord. In fact, I find sleep an obstacle in fulfilling my duties in keeping you safe."

**["Wow"]** Kane said in Gareth's mind, sounding as astonished as his brother. **["I...I don't know what to say."]**

**["We seriously need to have a sit down with Randor and the others when we get back."]** Gareth replied.

The four companions went down the stairs and entered the main area of the tavern. Sam was behind the bar, replacing an empty barrel of ale with a new one. Gareth, Kane, Randor, and Lydia sat themselves down at the same table they occupied the day before. A few moments later Maggie emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray with plates of steaming-hot food.

The redhead placed a plate before each member of Gareth's group. The plates held scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, bread and cheese. While neither of the brothers got hungry very easily (due to their supernatural nature), the food looked enticing enough for them to dig in anyways. The bard, the vampire, and Lydia ate slowly, methodically and used utensils. Randor just used his hands, not really caring about what he may look like to anyone else.

As they ate, Gareth pondered what Maggie had told him earlier. When she returned from the kitchen to refill their mugs, the bard spoke up. "Tell me more about these...unsavory areas and people that we do not wish to cross."

The redhead paused mid refill, and, when she noticed that her father wasn't paying attention, she spoke in a low tone.

"You don't want to go to those areas," she told him firmly, "Not unless you're looking for trouble. Adventurers don't go there and very few of the City Guard even dare to go there unless they have to."

"Why?" the bard asked, intrigued and worried.

"It's a crime ridden cesspit," a gruff voice said from behind Maggie.

The redhead jumped and spun around. Her father was standing there, a grim look fixed on his face.

"Father, I-" she began, but he held up a hand.

"It's alright," Sam told his daughter. "You're merely warning our new friends. I understand."

"What's so bad about this place?" Kane asked through a mouthful of bacon.

"It's not as bad as some other places in the Empire," Sam continued as he helped Maggie refill their mugs. "But it is home to some unfriendly folk: thugs, thieves, killers. Some of them work at the slave market as hired muscle. From what I hear, some even work for...the Eight Fingers."

From the way the portly tavern keeper uttered the words, whispering in solemn reverence and fear, Gareth knew right off the bat that this "Eight Fingers" was bad news.

"Who, or what, is Eight Fingers?" Gareth asked quietly.

"The worst sort you could ever meet," Sam answered grimly. "Not many people know too much about them, but what is known is that they rule Re-Estize from the shadows, and have their dirty fingers in every dark corner of the continent, from drugs to slave trade."

The bard frowned. "That sounds terrible."

"Aye, it is." the tavern keeper agreed. "And if you were smart, you'd stay well away from them. Don't even mention their name to anyone, otherwise you might get yourself into trouble."

Gareth nodded, as did Kane. Neither wanted to start any trouble just yet, and they were grateful for this helpful information.

Once they finished eating, Sam stepped in to clear their table. When the two brothers offered to help, he politely declined, stating that it was the least he could do for the ones who saved his daughter. The two thanked the portly tavern keeper, and he wished them a good day in return.

Outside, the four adventurers met Maggie. The redhead was dressed in a dull-green dress and had a leather satchel slung over one shoulder.

"You really don't have to do this," Gareth told the girl.

"I know I don't have to," Maggie said with a smile, "but I want to. Besides, I have an errand to run near the guildhall anyway."

"Alright" Kane said, waving a hand "Lead on, then."

"Very well." Maggie nodded, and she turned and started off up the street.

Gareth, Kane, Lydia, and Randor swiftly followed.

The group weaved their way through the streets of Arven, leaving behind the ancient street home to the Green Dragon, and made their way toward the towering fortress that sat in the center of the city.

Maggie led the group through a crowded and noisy street, where stalls filled with all manner of fruits and vegetables lined the sides, with customers and shopkeepers talking and haggling over prices. Once they made it to the other side of the crowd, the group came to a stop at a tall brick building, sandwiched between two shorter but more impressive looking buildings. Hanging outside above the door was a plain looking sign that read something in plain white paint.

"Here we are!" Maggie announced with a grin. "The guildhall of the Adventurer's Guild. Just talk to Meldra, the woman working the counter. She's the one you want to talk to. She'll help you get registered."

"You're not coming in?" Gareth asked.

"Like I said, I have an errand to run," the redhead reminded the bard. "It's just up the road at the apothecary's. If I'm not back when you're done, just wait. I'll be right back."

Gareth and the others nodded. With that, Maggie turned and departed at a brisk pace, heading up the road and disappearing inside a shop half-way out the road.

The bard sighed and looked at his companions. "Let's do this," the bard said.

He opened the door, and the group entered the guildhall.

* * *

Neither Gareth nor Kane knew what to expect when they entered the guildhall, but they had expected a little more...more.

The inside of the guildhall was lifeless and dimly illuminated. Positioned around a cold, lifeless stone fireplace was a collection of cushy, though dusty, looking couches and chairs. The only light that filled the interior came from the windows flanking the front door and the windows on the second floor. The sunlight that poured into the grave silent guildhall was filled with dustmotes, which indicated that either the guild had hit really hard times or they hadn't been there in ages.

For a moment the brothers believed that they were in the wrong place, or that this was some stupid prank, but those thoughts were dispelled when they heard wooden planks creaking under one's heels. Gareth jumped and the others went for their weapons, but stopped.

Across from them, descending the stairs beside the empty front desk was a pale, sickly looking woman with black hair. She was slender and dressed in a maroon dress with an apron. Both Gareth and Kane thought she looked like she was a zombie or another vampire. The woman had dark dull eyes with dark circles around them, which made her look like she hadn't had a good night's rest in ages.

The woman stopped at the bottom of the stairs and gave the new arrivals a blank, lifeless look. "Welcome to the Adventurer's Guild," she greeted blandly. "How may I help you?"

"G-greetings!" Gareth said, putting on a smile to hide the fact that he was feeling very creeped out. "We have come to join the guild."

The sickly woman cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?" she said, surprise evident in her voice. "Really?"

"Yes, indeed!"

The woman blinked, before she waved the group over. "Alright. Come on, I'll get you the forms."

Gareth and the others approached the front desk as the woman shuffled behind the counter and reached underneath it, searching for something until she withdrew four parchments with writing on them. The woman placed them on the counter in front of the four adventurers.

"Fill out these forms," the woman explained blithely. "The entrance fee is five silver coins each. There will also be a literacy test, which will be an additional five copper coins each."

The four adventurers accepted the forms, though Gareth and Kane immediately grew silent and worried. Literacy test? It made sense, though the two should've really asked more questions about the guild's requirements before trying to join. However, luck seemed to be on their side as the sickly woman continued.

"However, due to recent laws enacted by the Imperial government and some decisions made by the Guildmaster, a simple fee of five silver coins and a brief proficiency test will suffice."

"Proficiency test?" Kane asked.

"A small test of skill to show that you're competent enough and won't get yourself killed," the woman answered bluntly.

"What about the literacy test?" Gareth asked, successfully hiding his joy.

The woman shrugged. "You four seem smart enough. Besides, there might not be a guild here for much longer anyways."

The woman produced four ink bottles and four old looking feather quills. She indicated where on the forms they must sign and allowed the four Adventurers to get to work. Gareth, Kane, Randor, and Lydia each filled out their forms and returned them to the woman, who gave them a cursory glance and tucked them away in a drawer behind the counter. She opened another drawer and was rummaging around in it when the guildhall's front door opened.

Gareth and Kane glanced over their shoulders and saw four rough looking Adventurers enter. All four were men and were dressed in wolf skin cloaks. Leading the quartet was a man with white, spiky hair. He looked solidly built, athletic, and had a carefree expression on his face. His comrades were taller and their muscles and scars were more obvious. The leader carried a longsword at his side, while his companions carried spears, hammers, and maces.

"Lovely morning we're having, Meldra," the lead adventurer addressed the woman.

The sickly woman merely shrugged, and continued rummaging through the drawer.

As Gareth and Kane waited for the woman, now named Meldra, to find whatever she was looking for, the four adventurers approached the front desk. The leader of the adventurer party slammed a worn piece of parchment with faded writing onto the countertop.

"Consider that troll problem in the north dealt with," the white haired man said with pride.

"Hmm," was all that Meldra said. She didn't bother turning around and acknowledging his presence.

The white haired man stood there beside Gareth and Kane, waiting and watching Meldra. His confident and easy going expression quickly turned sour. He scowled at the back of the sickly woman's head.

"Hey!" he snapped. "I'm talking to you! I said the job's done. Where's our money?!"

"I'll be with you in a moment, Zasin," Meldra replied in a calm, but firm tone. "Can't you see that I am dealing with someone else?"

The white haired man turned his glare to the brothers.

"Who the hell are they?" he growled.

"New recruits," Meldra simply answered.

The man named Zasin frowned at Meldra. He then began to chuckle, and soon, his companions joined in. Gareth joined in as well, and so did Kane and soon everyone, save for Meldra, where chuckling, though Randor let out a full belly laugh, until Zasin stopped and gave the brothers an odd look.

"Them?" the white haired man sneered, jabbing a thumb at the brothers. "The dwarf I can understand, but an _elf _and those two clowns?"

Anger and outrage flashed across Lydia's expression, prompting Kane to put a hand on her shoulder, preventing the elf from showing the snarky adventurer what she really thought with her fists.

"Sheesh, the guild must really be having a hard time if they're taking in anyone from off the streets," one of Zasin's companion's chuckled.

"Indeed," Gareth chimed in. "It must be aching for members if they let _you _lot in."

The snickering stopped and Zasin gave the bard a cold look.

"What did you say?" he growled.

"Don't blame me, blame your friend," Gareth replied coolly. "He was the one who pointed out the dilapidated state of the Adventurers guild, and how they're letting anyone in, and I merely agreed with his insinuation that your sorry party got in due to the guild's lowered standards."

Zasin grew red. From behind the counter, they heard Meldra snort, and quickly suppress what sounded like the beginning of laughter. This only made the white haired man grow redder.

"You better watch your mouth!" Zasin snarled. "We're the Winter Wolves. We're Platinum ranked!"

"Which means what?" Kane asked slowly. "Does that really mean anything?"

"It means we're better than you," sneered one of Zasin's companions, "and that we killed all sorts of monsters that'd leave you pretty boys scared shitless."

"Aw, he thinks we're pretty," Kane cooed, jabbing his brother with his elbow. This caused the man to grow red with anger.

It was at this point that Gareth felt that he needed to de-escalate things before a fight broke out. The bard held up his hands in surrender.

"Look, we don't want to fight," Gareth said softly. "We're just here to register as Adventurers. We're all on the same side here. I think we got off on the wrong foot. How about we just forget about this whole mess and start over." The bard offered his hand to the white haired adventurer as he activated his **[Suggestion]** ability.

This ability unique to bards allowed him to nudge people to where he wants them to go without controlling them. However, it all depended on levels and luck. He was high enough level to be able to calm or nudge creatures in a certain direction, but the rest depended on luck. Unfortunately, their luck seemed to have run out.

Zasin looked at Gareth's hand like it had the plague, before he slapped it away. He reached for something on his sword belt and drew a large, jagged looking dagger.

"We're way past that now," the white haired adventurer said coldly. "Now we're going to teach you stupid bastards a lesson in manners."

"Oh come on," Kane groaned. "Is everyone in this lousy country murder happy?"

"I have an idea," a familiar voice cut in.

Everyone looked and saw that Meldra was now facing them. Her expression seemed clearer and serious. She held up a golden key.

"Since you four still need to take the proficiency test and since Zasin and his gang want to defend their sullied honor, why don't we do both?"

Watching the interested looks on their faces, she first addressed Gareth and Kane. "For your proficiency test, you shall battle Zasin and the Winter Wolves. Survive longer than five minutes and you will have proven that you are worthy of becoming Adventurers. I'll even start you off at Platinum rank."

She then turned to Zasin and his party. "You are free to use your weapons and abilities as you see fit. You can injure your opponent, but you cannot kill or seriously maim them. You don't want to bring the governor down on us all, do you?"

The white haired man and his companions shook their heads, and began conferring among themselves.

"Does this sound fair to both parties?" Meldra concluded her proposal.

Gareth and Kane looked at each other and then looked at the sickly woman.

"Acceptable," Gareth nodded.

"Good enough for me," Zasin grunted.

Meldra smiled. "Great. Now follow me."

Meldra led both parties through a backdoor and out into a spacious training ground, which looked more like a garden than anything. Surrounded by high brick walls, the enclosed space was large enough to host a large party. It had healthy, yet barely trimmed grass and a large tree at the far end. Growing at the foot of the walls that surrounded the enclosure were a variety of colorful flowers and curious looking plants.

The sickly woman gestured to her left and right, directing where the two parties should assemble. The Winter Wolves went left and Gareth's group went right. Meldra stepped into the space between the groups.

"Each party will send out one of its fighters," the sickly woman explained. "At the end of the match, the fighters shall be replaced by their comrade until every member of each party has had their turn. Now, choose your first fighters."

"My lord," Lydia said to Gareth softly. "Allow me to take the first match and show them the error of their ways. Let me prove myself to you."

The bard hesitated, but from Meldra's rules, it sounded like everyone had to fight anyways, and this might be the perfect chance to test Lydia's abilities and see them first hand. Gareth nodded reluctantly.

"Very well," he told her. "But don't try to kill him, please. We don't want to cause any further trouble. We just want to...impress them."

Lydia smiled and gave him a nod. "I will not fail you," she promised.

When the Winter Wolves had selected their fighter, the two teams backed away and their respective representatives stepped forward.

Gareth was beginning to wonder if he had made the right choice. The guy she was facing was taller than her by a head and looked like he could twist her into a pretzel. He began to wonder if this whole Adventurer thing was a good idea.

"Hey," Kane whispered to his brother, "relax."

Gareth looked, and saw his brother sitting cross-legged on the grass. The vampire motioned for him to sit beside him. The bard sat and Randor plopped on the ground.

"Everything is going to be alright," Kane told his brother, sounding completely sure.

"I hope so," Gareth murmured.

Lydia and her opponent were now only a few feet apart. Meldra stood between them and looked at each of them. She nodded and raised a hand. "Ready…" she said loudly. "Begin!"

Meldra stepped away.

The large, fur-cloaked adventurer sneered at her. "Easy prey." He leveled his spear at the silver haired elf and, as quick as lightning, lunged.

Gareth held his breath, but quickly exhaled in relief.

The large adventurer gaped at the sight of a slender elf standing on the spearhead, looking very calm. The man growled, and he swung the spear, trying to throw Lydia off. She jumped and landed softly on the ground. The man twirled the spear and tried to lunge again, only for Lydia to sidestep the attack. Infuriated by his lack of progress, Lydia's opponent picked up the pace. With both hands, he drove the spear at her, over and over again, hoping to skewer the elf. The silver haired elf simply avoided each attack with ease.

The Winter Wolves were astonished by the display, but they nonetheless cheered their comrade on, while Gareth, Kane, and Randor watched in silence. Lydia was a monk, which meant her attacks were primarily hand to hand combat. Although she avoided her opponents attacks, fighting back might be difficult.

Time moved quickly as Meldra reminded them of the time limit. Covered in sweat and clearly frustrated, the fur-cladded Adventurer snarled, and his spear began to glow white.

"**[Martial Art: Winter's Lance]!**" the spearman roared as his weapon glowed with a pure white glow, and as webs of frost crackled down the shaft from the spear's tip. He drove the spear forward, the magic enhanced spear whistled and brought with it a fierce wave of cold and ice magic. Lydia raised her hands and assumed a stance to meet the attack head on.

When the spear touched Lydia's studded bracers, the elf was consumed with blinding white light. A cold wind howled through the training grounds and faded.

The large adventurer grinned broadly. "Got you, you little-" he paused, and confusion entered his features.

Standing there, completely untouched, was Lydia. The ground around her was covered by a slick sheet of ice and a thin layer of snow. The spear's head was caught between Lydia's crossed wrists, inches away from her face.

"W-what the hell?" the man breathed.

Before he could process what had just happened or react, Lydia made her move. She grabbed the spear's blade, and with a swift chop, separated it from the shaft. With superhuman speed, she stepped within her opponent's defenses and delivered a flurry of gentle blows to the man's chest, arms, and legs. In a matter of seconds, the elf was done. She stepped away from the adventurer, brushed some dust off of her skirt, and walked away.

Kane grinned as Gareth's eyes were wide with surprise.

"W-what just happened?" the bard asked.

"Watch," the vampire told his brother.

The Winter Wolves were just as stunned, but quickly yelled at their comrade to strike at Lydia and take her down before the time ran out. The man nodded at his companions and took one step forward...then promptly fell to his knees and landed on his face.

Everyone looked on in stunned silence. Even Meldra was astonished. After a long moment, everyone regained their senses.

"Time's up," Meldra announced.

"Booyah," Kane murmured.

The Winter Wolves rushed to their fighter's side. One of the men checked his pulse and looked relieved. Zasin scowled at Lydia, who had just rejoined her party.

"What the hell did you do to him!?" the white haired man growled.

"I merely incapacitaed him," Lydia replied calmly, putting her hands behind her back. "The rules of the match explicitly stated that we were forbidden from harming our opponent too badly, so I merely used the Way of the Gentle Fists to paralyze him. He should be fine in an hour."

Zasin scowled at Lydia, before he stomped away as his companions dragged away their incapacitated friend. Lydia turned to Gareth and asked, "How did I do?"

"You were spectacular!" Gareth said with a smile.

Lydia blushed and curtseyed.

The next match was between Randor and another of Zasin's comrades. It didn't last as long as Lydia's. This member of the Winter Wolves carried a mace and had opened up with a ferocious offensive. Randor blocked the man's attack with his axe, but when the dwarf stumbled a little, the adventurer pressed his attack. Using a similar martial art as his comrade, the man's mace glowed white and pulsated with cold, icy magic. The man brought it down on Randor's head and met its mark, but did nothing but enrage the dwarf. The cold, billowing winter magic was quickly overwhelmed when Randor became consumed by a red hot, fire-like aura.

Randor dropped his axe and grabbed his foe's mace and smothered the glowing white point of magic. Slowly, he bent the weapon back toward its owner and forced it out of his hand. At this point, Randor knocked the man down with a punch and began shouting at the man.

"Let me tell ya somethin' you scrawny piece of shit!" the dwarf roared. "I have not come all this way to be done in by some winter sprite!"

The poor adventurer was confused and terrified as a burly, angry and burning dwarf stomped his way toward him. The man stumbled backward and tripped on his wolf cloak. Randor jumped on top of him and knocked him out with a headbutt.

The Winter Wolves watched in silent awe and fear as the fires that engulfed Randor died away and the dwarf stomped back to his companions, who were all just as surprised by the dwarf's fury.

* * *

After everyone had recovered from their shock, it was Kane's turn, but Zasin and the only remaining member of the Winter Wolves, a bald man with a bushy black beard, stepped forward.

"Alright, so you may have the skills to handle an enemy one on one," Zasin admitted, sounding mildly impressed, "but let's see if you can work with a partner."

Kane nodded as Gareth joined his brother's side.

**["This is going to be a cakewalk"] **Kane nearly cackled via **[Message].**

**["Maybe, but can we at least try to not make these guys hate us?"]** Gareth suggested. **["We need friends, not enemies."]**

**["Seriously? Come on, let's wipe the floor with dickheads. They need a nice slice of humble pie."]**

Gareth gave his brother a look, and the vampire sighed aloud.

**["Ugh, fine. I'll **_**try**_ **to go easy on them."]** Kane relented. **["You're a little **_**too**_ **nice sometimes, you know that? I swear it's going to get you killed one day."]**

Gareth smiled and he drew his longsword, _Nightbane_. **["That'll be the day"]**

Zasin drew his sword and his partner unhooked a dangerous looking pair of hammers from his belt. The hammer wielder allowed one of the hammers to slide from his grip, and let it swing by it's chain a few inches from the ground. Kane shot his brother a look that said, "_Seriously?_"

Gareth shrugged, and they returned their focus to their opponents.

Meldra raised a hand. "Ready….and...begin!"

She dropped her hand and Zasin took the initiative. The white haired swordsman surged forward with incredible speed, moving way faster than Leto did, hurtling towards Kane.

Meanwhile, Zasin's partner began to swing his hammer about by the chain attached to the base of its handle, causing it to fly about in wide arcs, until with a spin and a gesture, the bearded man brought the hammer down on Gareth.

The brother's wordlessly jumped into action. Though they haven't really tried any coordinated attacks in these new bodies, Gareth and Kane had prior teamwork experience in Yggdrasil. Kane sidestepped Zasin and Gareth jumped out of the path of the falling hammer.

Though both attacks from the Winter Wolves missed, it didn't seem to faze the experienced adventurers much, as Zasin quickly changed course and continued after Kane. The hammer struck the earth, creating a crater the size of a pumpkin, but the hammer wielder simply unleashed the other hammer, sending it after Gareth.

The two brothers continued their avoidance tactic for a few more minutes, but neither Zasin or his bearded partner seemed to let up. In fact, the two veteran Adventurers increased their speed and ferocity. The bearded man with the hammers whipped his weapons around as easily as a child wielded streamers, keeping them focused within the walled training grounds. Meanwhile Zasin narrowly caught Kane when the assassin appeared in the upper branches of the tree. The white haired swordsman shorne through the foliage and left the tree lopsided and bare on one side.

Even though their ferocity and speed increased, the bard and his brother continued to dodge, block or evade. Zasin seemed to notice their plan.

The white haired swordsman broke off his attack and sneered. "Come on! Don't tell me that's all you got? Running away isn't very manly, nor is it the way of an Adventurer."

"Perhaps not," Gareth admitted as he ducked away from another flying hammer. "But personally, I believe that sometimes the best way to win is to not play the game, to turn the other cheek. That way, no one gets hurt."

"That's ridiculous," Zasin said with a scowl. "In this world, it's kill or be killed. You can try to run, but where does that get you? You have to go on the attack!"

With a grunt of effort, Zasin's partner tugged on the chains of his hammers, bringing them both down on Gareth's position at a lightning fast speed. The bard narrowly avoided the attacks by diving and rolling to safety.

"I suppose so," Gareth puffed, brushing some of his own hair out of his face. "But sometimes, you just have to walk away. Some fights just aren't worth it. You got to pick your battles, otherwise you'll just be stuck fighting for the rest of your life."

Zasin frowned at Gareth's words, but shook his head.

"You'll have to fight sometime," the white haired swordsman frowned, "whether you like it or not. Even if the time runs out, you're not going anywhere until you show us what you're made of!"

The bard sighed and hefted his weapon. "If you say so."

With a tug of his chains, the bearded man's hammers flew back to his hands. He hefted them and took a running start at the bard. Gareth waited.

When the man was close enough, he hurled one of his hammers at the bard. Gareth took a deep breath, and just before the hammer could strike, he sidestepped it and swung _Nightbane_. The blade sliced through the chain like a knife through hot butter, sending the loose hammer flying through the air until Lydia caught it with one hand, centimeters too close to Meldra's head. The sickly woman grew white as a sheet and stumbled backward a few steps.

Gareth winced at how close to disaster they were, being too focused on trying to go on the offensive, but was greatly relieved by Lydia's presence and timely intervention.

Zasin's eyes widened in surprise and before he could react, he felt someone tapping on his shoulder. He looked and saw Kane standing there with a lazy smile. The white haired swordsman swung at the black clad assassin, but found that his sword was now a bouquet of flowers, freshly plucked from the garden.

"For me?" Kane gasped in mock shock. "You shouldn't have!"

If Zasin's eyes could widen any further, they'd pop right out of his head. The white haired swordsman reached for his dagger and found that his belt was gone, and that his trousers were around his ankles now.

"Looking for this?" Kane asked, holding up the swordsman's belt, complete with his daggers, coin purse, and sheathed sword.

_How did he…?_ Zasin wondered in astonishment.

"Now, what was it that you said to my brother?" the vampire wondered out loud, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Something about how this world is kill or be killed?"

The white haired swordsman felt a chill run down his spine as a sinister looking smile appeared on Kane's face. The vampire leveled an equally sinister looking short sword towards the pantsed man. The blade was curved and black like a moonless night. To Zasin, the sword really looked like an oversized thief's dagger, the type that was employed in dirty back alleys by thieves and murderers to slit the throats of some hapless victim.

Zasin had faced many things in his time as an Adventurer, but none elicited this kind of fear, nor were able to get the upper hand like this man.

"If we were playing things by your line of thinking," Kane went on, his voice smooth and even, "then you would be dead. Hell, from the way things looked, it did seem like you tried to kill us."

"No, that's not true, that-" Zasin tried, but Kane brought the blade closer to the white haired man's throat.

"Come now," the vampire purred, his smile widening, "You and I know the truth. My brother, the loveable scamp that he is, has a bit of a trust issue. While he always tries to believe the best in people, I, however, am more realistic. Those attacks, from men of your ranking...if we were an actual group of newbies, we'd be dead right now, Meldra included."

Zasin swallowed hard. He didn't intend for this to happen. He just wanted to teach these guys what happens when newcomers insult their more seasoned superiors. The white haired swordsman supposed he did get a little carried away.

Kane removed his blade from Zasin's throat. The swordsman let out a sigh of relief, but quickly tensed up when the assassin brought it up again, and swung it down in a blur of black. Zasin's heart jumped into his throat, and he expected pain or death, but nothing happened.

"Let this be a lesson to you," Kane told Zasin as he sheathed his weapon. "Don't be a big baby by getting into these petty piss fights. Cause one of these days, the bigger fish might be grateful for such an easy prey."

As soon as he said that, Zasin felt some weight slip off his shoulders as his wolf cloak fell to the ground, as did his tunic and chainmail shirt, leaving him with only his white cotton shirt. The white haired swordsman felt a lump in his throat.

"Got it?" Kane asked, smiling cheerfully.

Zasin nodded quickly.

There was a heavy thud behind him, and Zasin turned to see his comrade lying on the ground, his face sporting a nasty bruise as Gareth stood over him, not looking winded at all.

The bard sheathed his weapon and looked at Zasin, who was standing there in only his shirt and with his clothes and armor pooled around him at his feet.

"What happened to you?" Gareth asked the nearly naked swordsman.

"N-nothing!" Zasin stammered. "Y-you won! You've proven yourselves as Adventurers. R-right, Meldra?"

"Of course!" the sickly woman declared, her face suddenly looking more cheerful and energetic. "Congratulations, and welcome to the Adventurers Guild! Come on inside, I'll get you your tags and make it official."

The raven haired woman entered the guild hall with a spring in her step as Lydia, Randor, and Gareth helped the Winter Wolves up off the ground.

Gareth and Lydia healed the incapacitated Adventurers, and in seconds, the Platinum ranked adventurers were back to their normal selves - sort of.

Kane returned Zasin's belt to him and he quickly pulled his trousers back up.

"Buy you a drink?" the pale assassin offered.

Zasin nodded slowly, honestly needing a drink and not wanting to turn down his former opponent's offer, especially after said opponent had uncovered his plan to cause serious harm to him and his brother.

* * *

Back inside the guildhall, the Winter Wolves were sitting around the empty fireplace, chugging mugs of ale and trying to recover from the shock of their bitter defeat as Meldra tended to Gareth and Kane's party.

"There you go," Meldra said, placing four little platinum dog-tag like plates on the counter. "You are now all platinum ranked."

"Thank you," Gareth nodded, accepting his. He lifted up to inspect it. In the dim light, the tag shined faintly.

"So, what do these do?" Kane asked, inspecting his with a critical eye.

"They denote your rank and can grant you some privileges," Meldra explained.

"What kind of privileges?"

"They vary, but for a party of your rank, you'll usually get your first pick of the jobs from the job boards in the guildhalls no matter what country you're in." The sickly woman gestured to a bulletin board hanging on the wall to her right. The board was covered in a dozen aged parchments with images and words scrawled on them. "You'll also receive the pay befitting your rank. Since you're platinum, you will be well compensated."

Kane nodded appreciatively as Meldra produced a hefty looking old tome from beneath the counter. She opened the book and flipped through the pages until she came to a page that was half-filled with writing.

She dipped her quill in the inkwell and looked up at the two brothers.

"What is the name of your party?" Meldra asked.

"The Good Companions," Gareth answered without hesitation.

Meldra nodded and jotted down the name into the book. As the sickly woman wrote in the book, Kane suddenly got curious.

"What's the highest rank an Adventurer could attain?"

Meldra looked up from the book, and the vampire could feel eyes staring at him from behind. Kane looked about, feeling a little awkward. "I'm just curious."

Meldra looked down at her book and resumed writing. "The highest rank is Adamantite."

"What do you have to do to get a rank like that?" Gareth asked

"You pass a test," Meldra answered plainly. "But there are other ways."

"Like achieving a major feat." Zasin suddenly appeared at the end of the counter, holding his mug of ale. Kane stared at the white haired adventurer. The man seemed to have calmed down after he got some booze in him, with his cheeks already turning rosy.

"What kind of feat?" Kane grunted.

Zasin shrugged. "I don't know, something big, something that will catch everyone's attention, like-like slaying the king of the Frost Giants, defeating a Basilisk, or-or even besting a Dragon Lord. After that, you'll advance in rank based on the grandeur of the feat."

"Has anyone ever done that?"

Zasin nodded. "Some but not too many. Adamantite rank is something else. It's beyond anything that most people could achieve."

"Are you planning on doing something like that?" Meldra asked, looking up from her book.

"Pfft, nope!" Kane scoffed, waving a hand. "That just sounds needlessly reckless. We're fine with what we got."

Gareth nodded in agreement. "Indeed. To reach beyond one's capabilities is bold and admirable, but it comes with a risk that often proves fatal. It's best to be content with what you have if you already have enough."

Zasin stared at Gareth in astonishment. "That's incredible," the man breathed. "Are you a sage?"

Kane frowned at Zasin, and then looked at the rest of the Winter Wolves.

The bearded man with the hammers sighed in embarrassment. "He's like that when he drinks too much."

The front door to the guildhall opened, and in stepped Maggie. The young redhead smiled when she spied Gareth and Kane.

"Hi Meldra!" Maggie greeted cheerfully.

"Afternoon, Maggie," the sickly woman replied with a smile.

"Well?" the redhead asked Gareth.

"It's official," the bard said, showing her his rank tag. "We're adventurer's now!'

Maggie did a double take when she saw Gareth's tag. She looked at Kane's, and then Lydia's and Randor's. Her eyes grew wide as dinner plates.

"P-platinum?!" she sputtered. "B-but you're just joining the guild!"

Gareth shrugged and Maggie looked at Meldra.

The sickly woman gave a half shrug. "They've proven themselves to be quite capable against the Winter Wolves."

Maggie looked and saw Zasin, who was drinking at the counter, and the rest of his party sitting around the fireplace. She looked at the bard and the assassin with a new sense of awe and admiration.

"Well, that's that" Meldra announced as she closed the thick old book with a soft thump. "Welcome to the Adventurer's guild."

"Thank you, Meldra," Gareth said with a genuine smile, which caused the sickly woman's cheeks to turn red. "For helping us. If you have a need for our help, send for Maggie. We'll be in town for the next few days."

"O-of course" the sickly woman said with a nod.

"Ready to go?" Gareth asked Kane.

The vampire shrugged. "Yeah, sure. I'm starving."

As Maggie and the rest of the party made their way toward the door, Gareth offered a hand to Zasin.

"Since we're now colleagues" the bard said "How about we start over and forget about what had happened. Deal?"

Zasin stared at Gareth's hand for a moment, and a small, genuine smile formed on the swordsman's face. "Deal."

He shook the bard's hand.

Gareth bid the rest of the Winter Wolves goodbye before he hurried after Maggie and the others.

As Maggie and the party of new adventurers made their way back toward the Green Dragon, the redhead asked Gareth:

"What was that? Back there with Zasin?"

"We kind of got off on the wrong foot," the bard answered slowly and bashfully.

Maggie raised an eyebrow and Kane spoke up.

"Words were said, feelings were hurt, and a fight broke out." the vampire explained succinctly.

"A fight?" Maggie gasped. "Did you get hurt? I have some healing potions if you need."

"We're fine," Gareth told her "The only thing that was seriously hurt was their pride. How'd you think we earned a platinum rank so quickly?"

The redhead gaped at the bard and at the assassin.

"Amazing." The girl breathed in amazement. "The Winter Wolves are a strong party, probably one of the few highly ranked ones still in Baharuth, except for maybe Silver Thread Bird."

"Not anymore~" Kane murmured smugly.

"Anyways," Gareth said, trying to hide his brother's comment, "I just wanted to see if there were no hard feelings between us, and Zasin seems to be alright now."

"Are you sure?" Maggie frowned. "I've heard stories about Zasin's temper, and how he's killed people over petty insults."

Kane gave Gareth an "I told you so" look.

"I'm certain," the bard said with confidence.

"How can you tell?"

Gareth shrugged. "Just a feeling."

"Well, be careful" Maggie warned. "Zasin is unpredictable and dangerous."

"_I'm_ dangerous," Kane murmured under his breath.

"I'll keep that in mind," Gareth told Maggie "But I'm sure the worst is behind us. Zasin may have anger issues, but I sense that he's a good person when you get to know him."

"He's also an Adventurer," the redhead pointed out "If he were paid to kill you, he will. Most will. Adventurer's live by the coin and they'll take it wherever they can get it."

Gareth nodded thoughtfully and smiled. "True, though I have a feeling that won't be the case. There are some things that money can't buy, like true loyalty. A true friend is rare but worth more than gold."

"I don't know" Kane said aloud "I might have to agree with Little Red here. We barely know the guy, other than he has issues and is a mercenary, a sellsword."

Maggie frowned at Kane, making Gareth chuckle.

"True, but forgive me for sounding a little naive when I say that we should change his mind. We should make friends and get to know people in these lands if we're hoping to live here."

Maggie looked at Gareth, a hopeful look appeared on her face. "You're going to live here?"

The bard nodded. "Indeed, and we need all the friends that we can get. After all, as a wise old king from our lands once said: _Why have enemies when you can have friends_?"

Maggie gave the bard a funny look, but accepted what he said as the party made their way back to the Green Dragon.

* * *

**[?]**

Night gradually fell over the Azerlisia Mountains, bringing with it a deep darkness, illuminated only by a sea of glittering stars and a pale, glowing moon. The soft glow of the moon reflected off of the snow, giving the mountainous landscape an eerie glow. Among the perpetual cold and snow blanketed peaks, a lone figure was sprinting for safety.

The ankle-deep layer of snow slowed the figure but not by much, as he was driven by a frantic, almost excited, energy.

A deep, monstrous roar sounded from behind, echoing among the clear and silent mountains and rocky walls that rose around the figure.

Weaving his way around the jagged rocks and the frozen trees that poked out form the snowy ground, the figure eventually found the place he was looking for: a barely hidden cave, which led to a man made tunnel.

The figure glanced backward and saw that the way behind him was clear but saw shadows cast on the rock walls and snow a short distance away. A smile formed on the figure's face, a feeling of hope surged through him. He began to think that he was in the clear, that maybe he got rid of his pursuers. Those thoughts went up in smoke when a louder, more ferocious roar echoed through the night. The figure frowned. This didn't sound like his pursuers. It sounded bigger and a whole hell of a lot worse.

Something caught his eye and he looked up and his mouth fell open.

"Holy Shiitake Mushrooms," he breathed, "You are _not _a Frost Giant."

In the clear night sky, illuminated by the faint moonlight, was a giant, scaly creature with enormous batlike wings. The creature soared across the sky and circled high above the figure. The man squinted, and his heart stopped as he realized what he was looking at.

_It's a fucking dragon!_ The man held back the urge to scream.

The enormous winged-beast roared as it spotted him, making him yelp in fear as he made a mad dash towards the cave, hoping to get there in time before he got turned into a popsicle.

The man saw the creature's shadow on the snow as it rapidly grew bigger as he neared the cave's entrance. Sensing how close the dragon was, the man closed the gap between him and safety by diving head first through the entrance. He landed on slush and rock, but he couldn't care less as he felt a massive gust of wind and heard a furious roar from behind, which caused the ground beneath the man to tremble. The man covered his head and remained face down on the ground, as if he were trying to avoid a hail of gunfire. In moments the roaring stopped. The man lifted his head and was greeted by another powerful gust of wind, which was followed by silence.

"*HUFF*, *HUFF*, open new recording," the man spoke into his left wrist, which was where he wore his clockwork watch. His watch beeped in response, prompting him to continue. "It has been three days since my mysterious arrival here from Yggdrasil. I have encountered Frost Giants and now a damn Frost Dragon in this cold mountain, nearly avoiding certain doom. Interestingly enough, it did not choose to try to freeze me alive. Either it was merely acting territorial, or it was hungry enough for a quick snack. Or perhaps it was sent by a Frost Giant to try to capture me. Must conduct further studies on this creature and their potential owners. Damien out."

The watch beeping once more, he let out a sigh as he finally allowed himself to rest for a moment. The man named Damien reflected on how he ended up here. One minute he was on Yggdrasil, a video game he spent a lot of his free time playing until it finally timed out, and the next minute he was in some cold, wintry landscape being pursued by monsters straight out of a medieval fantasy world.

It wasn't bad at first. He was astonished and intrigued by how he was in his in-game avatar and that the guild base and the NPCs he and his friends built together were alive and with him as well. But after a while, Damien grew bored with being stuck inside and wanted to get some fresh air. So he went outside, accompanied by some guards, but seeing the natural beauty of the mountains and fascinated by the prospect of being in a different world drew him away. He wandered a bit, entranced by the wondrous new world that he was in. He found this cave and explored for a bit before carrying. It was then he came upon a group of real Frost Giants, who were camping by a great waterfall.

While every instinct told him to stay hidden and back away, Damien's overpowering sense of curiosity won out. Emerging from his hiding place, he cautiously strolled into the camp, taking care to not surprise them. He greeted them and tried to start a conversation with them. Whether they understood him or not, Damien didn't know, nor did it seem to matter. The Frost Giants began chattering amongst themselves in a harsh guttural language, and picked up whatever weapons they had on hand and chased him for what seemed like a few miles.

His Clockwork Sentinels, the clockpunk automatons that were guarding him, put up a valiant fight, managing to take out two of the giants and grievously injuring the others, but in the end they were smashed to pieces like fragile toys. Fortunately, it bought him enough time to try to run, leading him to where he was now.

After lying there on the cold, wet floor of the cave for what seemed like forever, Damien got up and approached the cave's entrance. The man's hand drifted toward his side, where a leather holster carrying his trusty magic gun waited.

Poking his head out, he scanned the area. Nothing but snow and jagged rocks. Damien waited for a few moments and, when he was sure that it was clear, stepped outside. He only took a few steps before there was a roar and a trio of Frost Giants emerged from almost out of nowhere.

They charged at him, bearing enormous frost covered axes and clubs made of ice, metal, bone, and stone. Damien's blood ran cold. From their speed and how close they were, he might be able to bring down one of them - maybe even two, if he got lucky - but ultimately, he couldn't see a scenario in which he would get out of this uninjured..

_Shit!_ The man thought as he drew his revolver.

POW!

There was a soft crack and the first frost giant tumbled to the ground with a small hole in his head. The other two slowed to a halt, and before they could process what just happened to their comrade, two more cracks faintly sounded off, and the two Frost Giants joined their friend on the ground, holes in their head and dark blood staining the snow.

"Thanks for the save!" Damien called out to his unseen savior.

Although he couldn't see her, he recognized her handy work. He'd seen her in action back in Yggdrasil, when his friend first found her, discarded and forgotten like old junk. His friend found her and fixed her right up, making her an efficient killing machine and guard for the base.

"My pleasure, sir." a woman's silky voice said as a familiar shape appeared from atop the rock walls that surrounded the area in which the cave resided.

The woman who saved his life was dressed in a black and purple dress that accentuated her curves and showed quite a bit of her porcelain flesh, which would be ill suited for a human in this climate and altitude. But the woman wasn't human. With her piercing blue eyes, flowing blue-black hair and deadly accuracy with the brass, custom-made sniper rifle in her hands, the woman named Caitlyn was anything but human.

Caitlyn hopped down from the towering rock wall and landed gracefully in the snow.

"You've wandered off," the sniper said as she approached Damien. The way she said it sounded more like an accusation than an observation.

"Sorry," Damien said meekly. "I just-I just got curious and I saw something and one thing led to another, and, well, here we are."

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Damien cleared his throat.

"Where are the others?"

"They're taking care of the rest of the Frost Giants," the sniper reported. "They'll meet us back at the base."

"Excellent." Damien nodded. He thought of the Frost Dragon and asked about it.

Caitlyn shrugged "It wasn't here when I arrived. Must've escaped when its masters were busy waiting to ambush you."

Damien frowned and considered where it could've gone, but he figured that it must have given up.

"Do you have everything, sir?" Caitlyn asked, shouldering her rifle.

The dark haired man thought for a moment but then he remembered. He began patting himself down. There wasn't anything in the pockets of his heavy overcoat or in his pants. He searched his pack and felt relief when he found what he was looking for.

In his hands was a baseball-sized lump of dark ore that Damien discovered in the cave during his initial search. Initially dismissing it at first, his Alchemist and Blacksmith senses kicked in as he touched it, sensing it to be something different. Analyzing it quickly, he realized that it was a natural material that never existed in Yggdrasil. He quickly **[Messaged]** his NPCs about it,ordering them to prepare his lab before he returned to the base, just minutes before he ran into the Frost Giants.

"Good. It looks like our Supreme Being isn't so helpless after all." Caitlyn smirked, before turning away to lead her leader back to their base.

"Hey c'mon, show some respect for your creator," Damien complained half-heartedly.

She smirked at him. "If some respect is what my maker wants…"

The dark haired woman gave him a wink as she continued walking forward, her hips suddenly swaying seductively.

Damien's face grew red, and he did his best to not stare. "W-We should get back to base. We don't want the others to get worried."

"Of course not," Caitlyn purred, and chuckled when Damien's face turned even redder.

The two set off through the snow, guided by the light of the moon as the raven haired sniper kept a sharp eye out for any potential threats.

* * *

**(a/n: So, what do you think? Don't worry, we're still sticking with our main duo, this is just introducing a new character and we get to see how it all ties into what's going on next chapter. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Leave a review and stuff. Until next time!) **


	8. Song of the Lonely Mountain

**(a/n: New chapter already? Again? Crazy. I hope you enjoy this and let me know what you think. Big thanks to Lucius Walker for all his help!)**

* * *

Ch.8: Song of the Lonely Mountain

It had been two days since the unexpected defeat of the Winter Wolves, and word of the impromptu battle had quickly spread beyond the Adventure's Guild guildhall. The few Adventurer parties that still frequented the Arven City guildhall caught wind of the tale from Meldra, and after seeing Zasin, the foul tempered leader of the Wolves, deep into his cups and mumbling something about a pale demon, the stories spread even faster.

Rumors began to circulate around the guild, and within their associates and remaining supporters in the region, questions were being asked as to how an effective and brutal team like the Winter Wolves were defeated by a band of newcomers. People tried to press Meldra for answers, but the guildhall's receptionist and sole employee was tightlipped about it, which only fueled people's curiosity some more, which was just as Meldra had hoped.

The Adventurer's Guild in Baharuth was in serious decline, and rumors of an astonishing new party immediately earning platinum rank was an easy way to drum up business and earn some positive publicity for once. This business tactic seemed to work, as the sickly, raven haired woman saw more activity in the guildhall than she's seen in prior months.

It was nice to once again see citizens from Arven, the surrounding countryside and traveling adventurers stopping in to rest, resupply, take up new jobs, and share in the latest news and gossip in droves. It finally made her job seem more meaningful, which brightened her day.

Even with her years of experience, Meldra was surprised by how quickly these rumors have spread. Then again, part of an adventurer's toolkit is rumors. When on a job that has sketchy details at best, adventurer's have to mine for information, and often have to rely on hearsay and rumors.

"I hear their leader is a prince of a foreign land," one woman whispered to her friend as Meldra passed by, carrying mugs of ale.

"I hear he's as beautiful as daydream," the woman's friend whispered back.

Meldra felt a small smile form on her face. She couldn't help but agree, but she'd prefer to stay quiet. Let the people come to their own conclusions, even if most of them are inaccurate and outlandish - as far as she knew.

"I hear that the elf in their party is a member of the Elf Kingdom's royal family," a grey haired adventurer told his friend as they searched the job board for a new quest.

"Pfft, yeah right," his friend snorted

"It's true! The Elf King is said to have many children, hoping to pass on his incredible power onto a worthy heir. From what Bal said, the elf used a strange type of magic to stop his attack _and _paralyze him."

Meldra slipped past a silver ranked adventurer party sharing a hot meal and laughing about some funny story one of their members was recounting. The receptionist, while grateful for the surge in business and activity, was feeling a little overwhelmed. Ordinarily, the guildhall would see small, brief bursts of activity, hosting one or two parties, and then going quiet for days, weeks on end.

But now, if things continue as it was going right now, the receptionist might have to find an extra pair of hands to help around.

The receptionist narrowly avoided getting knocked over by a large adventurer who lumbered by, not really paying attention to where he was going and finally reached her destination, a table in the corner of the crowded guildhall occupied by a small group of adventurers. As she handed the adventurers their drinks in exchange for a few copper coins, the front door to the guildhall opened and everything went unusually still. She didn't need to turn around to know who everyone was staring at.

Standing in the doorway was Gareth and his party, the Good Companions. The bard's blond, almost white hair reached past his shoulders and his flawless features seemed to glow in the bright afternoon sun. He was still clad in his emerald cloak and orange doublet and topped with a feathered cap.

All eyes in the guildhall were fixed on the new addition to the Guild. Gareth scanned the crowded guildhall interior and frowned. He raised a hand and gave a wave.

"Hello everyone!"

Almost like a spell being broken, chatter and activity returned to the guildhall, albeit at a softer and more careful volume and pace.

Kane, the assassin in black, scowled and murmured, "It's like orientation day over again."

Meldra was puzzled at the man's words but shrugged. From what little she knew about them, the party was from a far distant country that she never heard of before, so she chalked it up to something that was from there.

Being singled out was not always a good thing, especially for adventurers. It usually painted a large target on your back, and can make life hell for the poor soul, like conflict with jealous parties seeking to knock their target down a peg, and even sabotage. Not all adventurers were in it to slay monsters and help people, some were petty, greedy glory hounds. If someone gets more attention or praise, it may reflect negatively on others, making them seem incopentent and makes jobs harder to come by.

Judging from some of the looks that Gareth and his party were receiving as they entered the guildhall, it seems that they already got themselves some potential rivals and enemies.

As the Good Companions found themselves a table in the corner of the guildhall, whispers began anew in earnest.

"A dwarf…I wonder if he's the one that made their weapons. Wonder if he'll make us some too..."

"Is she a half elf?"

"He's even more handsome than you said!"

Gareth, Randor and Lydia seated but Kane remained standing. The incredibly pale man turned and spoke. His voice rough and loud enough for everyone to hear.

"You know, it's not polite to talk about someone behind their back, especially if the people you're talking about are in the same room as you. If you have something to say, say it!"

That made most people quiet down and quickly look away in an attempt to avoid the assassin's cold, dark eyes.

Meldra shivered. Although the dark haired man often seemed cordial and polite, the few times she's seen him get serious made her pity anyone who incurred his wrath.

Fearing that someone might try to start trouble, the receptionist quickly went over to their table.

"Welcome, Mr. Kane!" Meldra greeted him with a smile. "Welcome, Mr. Gareth! How may I help you today?"

"Nothing by way of food or drink this time, Meldra" Gareth said, taking off his cap. "We were hoping any jobs worthy of our skill had cropped up."

"Right."

Meldra was beginning to wonder that herself. Adventurer jobs were divided and classified according to adventurer skill levels and ranks. A high level job would require a high level adventurer or party, while a low level one can normally be taken by anyone, but was usually reserved for newcomers and the numerous low ranked parties. Arven's guildhall had slim pickings when it came to jobs, even more so when it came to high leveled jobs. The Winter Wolves had already taken care of some of them, and before them, another high level party took care of a number of risky jobs that had collected dust on the job board for sometime.

Meldra glanced at the job board and saw that there didn't seem to be anything worthy of a Platinum ranked team, let alone gold rank.

"I'm afraid not," Meldra said slowly, turning back to Gareth "But there might be something coming in today."

"Ah well." the bard shrugged with a grin. "In that case we'll take some ale."

"Coming right up," the receptionist nodded, and went off to fill the party's order.

* * *

When Meldra disappeared through the door behind the counter, Kane looked at Gareth.

"I don't see why we keep coming here," the vampire grumbled. "We got our little club membership cards, so can't we just, I don't know, go home to the Bronze Ox already?"

"We could," the bard said, "but remember why we're out here. We're here to collect information and explore this new world. What better way than to take on a real life quest and earn some money?"

"We already have money."

"Yes, but you stole it"

"From a rapey asshole who _you_ turned insane with magic."

Gareth frowned. "Fair enough. But this is an opportunity to learn how this world works and make friends."

Kane folded his arms "I don't know. I don't think that we're doing _that_ a good job of it. From what I can hear, half of the people in this building either want to kill you or to screw you, in the fun and not fun kind of ways."

"Do you have any better ideas?"

"Yeah, not joining a weird medieval paramilitary organization filled with members who are as emotionally stable as a group of high schoolers on steroids. Maybe we could just capitalize on your music abilities. You're a bard! I bet that you can set up on some street corner and play "Wonderwall" a hundred times and we'd be swimming in cash and chicks."

"That's your big idea? To become a busker?"

Kane shrugged. "Sure, why not? We'd be making money and we wouldn't be risking our lives."

"Hey, you!"

The vampire sighed. "Very often."

He looked up and saw an angry looking man with a scar that went from his lips to his chin, holding a sword with saw-like teeth.

"Can I help you?" Kane asked sarcastically

"You guys are the ones who defeated the Winter Wolves?" the man growled.

"Ye~_p_!" The vampire replied, popping the 'p.' He gave the sword wielding man a look. "You want an autograph?"

"There's no way a couple of punks like you could beat that prick Zasin."

"Well, we kind of did."

"Get up!" the man snapped, taking a few steps back and assuming a fighting stance. "Come on! Show me what you're made of!"

"Heo, don't," warned a tall, grim faced adventurer. "They're not worth it"

"Well…" Kane began to retort but was cut off by Heo.

"Shut up, there's no way that a sorry bunch of clowns like them can make platinum rank that quickly."

"I'm sorry but we did," the vampire simply said, "and I don't know what to tell you, man."

"Then stand up and fight!"

Kane rolled his eyes and looked at his brother. "Seriously, what is wrong with these people? We've been in town for only a few days, and we're already butting heads with everyone we meet. I'm afraid to take a shit, otherwise I'd soil somebody's honor or something."

He turned to the man and waved a dismissive hand. "Shoo fly, don't bother me."

Heo's face turned red. "What did you call me?"

"A fly," Kane said, his voice turning hard. "Because that's what you are to me: annoying and loud, buzzing about trying to get my attention. I am giving you an opportunity to walk away now before you embarrass yourself, or worse. If not, then you shall be treated like a bug."

Heo scowled and looked ready to attack, but as the scarred adventurer gazed into the vampire's eyes, any resolve he had to fight quickly evaporated. The man's face grew pale and his hands began to tremble. Heo mumbled a soft apology that almost went unheard, and quickly retreated from the guildhall. When the door slammed shut, Kane kicked his feet up on the table.

"Well, that was boring," Kane snorted, lacing his hands together behind his head. "Anyone else want to start unnecessary conflicts they can't finish?"

No one answered, and soon the guildhall grew at ease and was filled with activity once more.

"Seriously though," Kane said to Gareth "I'm getting a little tired of being challenged to a duel by these knuckle draggers. If I get challenged one more time, I will murder-"

"Gareth! Kane!" A familiar cheery voice cried out.

The two looked and saw Sylvia and the rest of the White Clovers enter the guildhall. The vampire spotted Leto, and when the blond swordsman scowled at him, Kane sighed deeply and began to wonder where Meldra and their ale were.

"Here you go!" As if one cue, Meldra finally arrived with their ordered ale. "Sorry for the delay. Bloody barrel got jammed."

"Thank god," Kane murmured, grabbing his drink and downing half of it.

Gareth gestured for the White Clovers to join them, and the party pulled up chairs and stools and joined their friends.

"Gareth!" Marcus greeted the bard with a smile. "How are you? We've heard about your battle with the Winter Wolves."

"You have?" the bard asked.

"Everyone in Arven has," Sylvia informed him. "It's the talk of the town!"

"Indeed," Leto nodded. "Zasin is one of the finest swordsmen in the region; one does not simply defeat a man like that and not hear of it."

"I suppose," Gareth said, feeling a little bashful. He didn't anticipate the kind of attention he was getting and was really beginning to regret it.

"So, what brings you into the guild hall?" Kane asked. "Looking for work?"

"Sort of," Marcus said, reaching into a leather pouch hanging from his belt, and pulled out a folded bit of parchment. The leader of the White Clovers unfolded the parchment and smoothed it out on the table.

Gareth, Kane, Lydia, and Randor studied the parchment. Sketched on the parchment was a mountain range with a block of text scrawled underneath. Kane didn't have a clue as to what was written on the parchment, but Gareth could make out a few words here and there.

Yggdrasil bards were jacks of all trades, having a little bit of everything, ranging from magic, to crafting. Among the numerous skills and paths a bard can follow, one such skill was writing. Bards can help craft magic scrawls, encode messages, and decode text hidden throughout the game. Fortunately for Gareth, he had poured some points into the decoding text skill and it seemed to be working. Sort of.

"An escort mission?" Gareth blinked, staring at the job description on the parchment, catching a couple of vital words here and there. "Through the Azerlisia Mountains?"

Marcus nodded. "Aye. It was a job posted for Workers over at the Black Swan Inn, however, the one who posted the job has extended it to the Guild as well, which is why we're here."

"What sort of escort mission are we talking about?" Kane asked, his interest somewhat piqued.

"Several teams of Workers and Adventurers are being hired to escort a very important man and his party into the mountains," Marcus explained.

"Why are we going into the mountains?"

"Our employer is rather...eccentric," Allen said slowly. "Apparently, he's had a lifelong ambition to hunt Frost Dragons."

Gareth and Kane shared concerned looks. Dragons were dangerous in Yggdrasil, and if the dragons here were anything like the ones on the game, this job sounded suicidal.

"Okay," Kane said slowly. "And where do we fit into all this?"

"Seeing as you are one of the few parties in the region that is above gold rank," Marcus explained, "we thought you would like to join up."

"It pays really well," Allen added, "even with all of the people that signed up already."

"Who's the employer?" Gareth asked.

"A very important man," Marcus answered with a serious tone. "General Zirdam Ginostus. He's the supreme commander of the Imperial Army and a close advisor to the Emperor."

Kane whistled, impressed by the news.

Meanwhile, Gareth raised an eyebrow. "Why would a man like that want to go hunting for Frost Dragons? Isn't that dangerous?"

"Like I said, General Zirdam is pretty eccentric." Allen shrugged. "He's a brilliant and brave commander, but he's rather strange. Then again, I can't really criticize or complain. He is a valued friend of the Guild, which is probably why the Emperor hasn't outright purged us yet."

"From what I hear, the old man's retiring soon," Marcus said grimly, "and he wants to do a few things before leaving the Emperor's service. I fear that once he's gone, the Emperor will finally do away with the Guild."

A solemn silence fell onto the assembled adventurers. It sounded like this general was the guild's only hope, and that from the sound of it, their days may be numbered. Gareth gave it some thought. The escort mission sounded simple enough, especially since they did have incredible powers to help them out, but there were a number of factors that made the bard hesitate.

Firstly, they were going up into the Azerlisia Mountains. From what they gleaned during their brief stay in Arven, the Azerlisia Mountains were cold, miserable, and was home to all manner of ferocious monsters like Frost Dragons and Frost Giants. Neither of the brothers know what they would be walking into. Anything could go wrong.

Then there was the matter of who they were escorting. General Zirdam Ginostus sounded like a very valuable person. If anything were to happen to him, the fault would probably land in the Guild's lap and could bring about their end. There was also the manner of pay. Even if they did receive a hefty paycheck, Imperial law and guild policy would suck them dry, making this trip not worth the time and effort.

Besides, this job seemed dangerous. Dragons were always bad news, even on Yggdrasil. So if they were going up against real dragons with the kind of firepower their digital counterparts had, there was a chance that they could end up dead, even if they were accompanying competent Adventurer and Worker teams. It also seemed too soon to take on a job like this.

Marcus noticed the uncertainty on Gareth's face.

"I know this seems dangerous," the leader of the White Clovers said, "but we hope that you could at least consider joining."

"It'll do the guild's rep some good if we had an impressive group of adventurers like yourselves take on the job" Allen added. "Plus we'd feel a bit safer if we had you guys watching our backs in those mountains, with all those monsters and Workers around."

"Expecting trouble from the Workers?" Kane asked with a frown.

"No, but you know how they are around adventurers," the archer said.

As Meldra arrived and handed each of the Clovers a drink, Gareth pondered the archer's words.

Workers were basically unregistered adventurers. They didn't have some of the benefits or support that the guild provides, and they were just as disliked by the Imperial government as their guild sanctioned peers, but the trade offs were tempting. Workers could take on any job they pleased, even ones posted on the guild's job board and got to keep more money than they would've if they went through the guild. Gareth and Kane had both heard some tales from Maggie, tales of conflicts between Adventurers and Workers. Workers often acted high and mighty, considering how they don't have to deal with as many restrictions as the typical Adventurer. A number of Worker groups active in Baharuth also gave the guild members in the Empire a run for their money in terms of skill. Groups like Tenmu, Heavy Masher, and Blazing Crimson each had solid reputations, and their skills could've easily earned them a high rank in the guild, but instead, they chose to be freelancers.

Despite all the variables and the possible life ending dangers, Gareth felt surprisingly calm, and felt like he knew what they should do.

"...We'll take it," Gareth finally said with a smile, causing Sylvia to cheer and Marcus, Allen, and Leto to let out sighs of relief.

"So, when do we go?" Kane asked, setting aside his now empty mug.

"First thing tomorrow," Marcus answered "We're to gather with the other Adventurers and Workers outside the city's walls."

"Who's a part of this escort mission?"

Marcus thought for a moment and answered in slowly and thoughtfully. "There are about a dozen teams going. Most I've never heard of before but I do know that the Worker group Dragon Hunt is advising the General during this mission. They've slain a green dragon once, and are knowledgeable when it comes to battling such creatures."

"There'll also be at least a dozen highly trained knights from the Imperial garrison along with the general's own personal guard," Allen added, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I also heard that the Emperor has sent one of his Four Imperial Knights to guard the general."

"Imperial what?" Kane asked.

"Imperial Knight," Sylvia chimed in. "The Four Imperial Knights are the Emperor's own bodyguards. Handpicked by the Emperor and are considered the strongest warriors in Baharuth, maybe even on the entire continent."

"Save for maybe Gazef Stronoff," Leto added.

"Which only proves how valued the general is," Marcus said. "If the Bloody Emperor spares one of his most elite and prized warriors, you know that person is important to him."

"No pressure, right?" Kane joked, and let out a loud chuckle, which drew some odd stares.

"No pressure," Gareth murmured, agreeing with his brother and taking a sip from his mug.

Although he didn't feel very nervous, the bard couldn't help but feel in the back of his mind that things are not going to go well on this trip.

* * *

Kane yawned loudly and scratched himself as he, his brother, and their NPCs made their way towards Arven's North Gate.

The city was still quiet, its streets were empty and had a faint morning mist hanging in the air. The streetlamps produced a faint orange glow as the predawn sky above began to brighten with the first light of the rising sun.

The vampire was still shaking off sleep and drowsiness while Gareth, Lydia, and Randor appeared well rested and ready to go. Kane never was much of a morning person, even outside Yggdrasil. He stretched his arms and mentally prepared himself for what may come on this journey.

They'd been gone from their safe and secure inn for close to a week, and already they've had to fight three, almost four, times. It reminded Kane of Yggdrasil in a way. Outside the various safe zones and cities that forbade PVP, players often had to watch their step or get caught in an ambush by Player Killers or rival guilds. Which was why Kane currently slept with one of his daggers close at hand and a healing potion in his pocket. In a world full of real fantasy monsters, you have to be prepared for anything.

The Good Companions arrived at the North Gate and found it wide open. A dozen guards in matching green tunics stood at attention and were very alert. When they saw Gareth and the others arrive at the gate, the guards stopped them and asked for identification.

The adventurers showed the guards their tags and told them that they were part of the escort mission. Seeing their platinum tags, they nodded and allowed them through.

Through the gate, the Good Companions were greeted by the sight of a large crowd. The crowd numbered over a hundred and wore clothing of varying quality: from clean and elegant clothes and armor, to old and worn rags with cheap armor and weapons. A short distance from the crowd were a dozen wagons and double that number in large workhorses.

A soft hum of chatter hung in the air as the Good Companions approached. Spying the White Clovers at the far edge of the crowd, Gareth and the others went to join them.

As they skirted the crowd and did their best to avoid being trampled by horses and supply wagons, Kane could sense that people were staring at them. He scanned the crowd and caught sight of some. Most seemed curious, others some seemed like they were sizing up an enemy. One made the vampire stare back in confusion.

Standing in the midst of the assembled Workers and Adventurers was a group of four that looked a little more well dressed compared to those closest to them.

Three of them were tall and looked like Adventurers but the fourth of their number, the one staring at Kane, was shorter than her comrades. If anything, she looked like someone's kid who got lost, especially with that dorky looking bowl cut.

_What's that little girl doing here?_ Kane wondered to himself, _and why is she staring at me?_

Or was she staring at Gareth?

The vampire didn't know, nor did he care. He grew dismissive and annoyed with people who stared at him. Yeah, yeah, they beat up a preening prick who tried swinging his dick at someone who had the skills and the guts to chop it off. So what?

At first Kane thought that this new world would be fun, having powers and kicking ass. But now he was just getting annoyed by all the attention, the dumb questions and the slack jawed staring. The vampire was on the verge of missing home. Sure things there sucked ass through a straw, but at least he could just go home, kick back, have a cold drink and relax in privacy. But Kane decided that he just had to suck it up and keep moving. Kane sniffed at the girl, and hurried after his brother.

The Good Companions reached the White Clovers. Each member of the party was dressed in their finest armor and matching white cloaks with a silver clover stitched onto it. Lying in a pile on the ground were five large packs that looked ready to burst. Leto and Sylvia looked fresh and ready to go, while Allen looked hungover.

"Hey guys!" Gareth greeted with a toothy smile.

"Gareth!" Sylvia chirped, and ran up and hugged the bard. She released him after a few awkward seconds that felt like minutes.

"Glad you guys could make it," Marcus said, sounding pleased.

"So, now what?" Kane asked, sounding annoyed and bored "We hold hands and sing a song or do we grab each other's junk until something happens?"

Gareth elbowed his brother and gave him a look that said, "Be polite"

"Now, we just wait until our employer arrives," Marcus answered, not catching what the vampire meant.

"Goody!" Kane complained and he plopped on the ground and began tearing out blades of grass.

"He shouldn't be long now." Allen yawned. "The general is a man of his word. He'll be here soon."

The archer's words did little to comfort the vampire, who just sat in the grass and kept plucking them out of the ground. Randor followed the vampire's lead and sat down beside him and watched Kane intently.

Gareth sighed and looked out at the crowd of chattering people.

"See anybody familiar?" the bard asked.

"A few," Marcus nodded. He gestured to a quartet of plain looking adventurers. They were dressed in clean and well maintained breastplates and dark green tunics. "Over there is Screaming Whip, a gold ranked party. Not very flashy or famous, but they're dependable."

Marcus gestured to a few other groups who were also gold ranked, most seemed clean and presentable, but there were a few that they just crawled out of a gutter. Weather worn and beaten, these Adventurers wore ratty clothing that had been repaired numerous times and carried cheap looking weapons. Gareth was concerned about those groups, and worried about their safety and their ability to contribute to the group, but Marcus assured the bard that though they looked worse for wear, those parties were capable of handling themselves.

"What about Workers?" Kane asked suddenly, not looking up from his grass destroying activity. "Does one of them have a little girl in their group?"

Marcus blinked and thought for a moment.

"That sounds like Foresight," the leader of the White Clovers said. "They're the only ones that I'm aware of who have someone that young in their party."

"How good are they?" the vampire asked.

"Pretty good," Allen answered. "They fought in the Grand Arena in Arwintar, and I heard that they killed an Elder Lich and his army. Apparently she's a genius."

"She's smart, so what," Kane scoffed.

Leto snorted but Marcus spoke up to prevent Kane from hearing it.

"She's a genius, as in she has an innate magic talent. On top of that, she is a talented magic caster."

"Oh?"

Marcus nodded. "That girl Arche has a rare ability, even for geniuses. 'The All-Seeing Eyes.'"

"The All-Seeing Eyes? What's that?" Gareth asked him. Allen gave him a funny look, before he shrugged.

"It's an ability that allows the magic caster to be able to see the magic power and tier of magic users. Depending on how strong the user is, either they glow like a dying candle, or they can supposedly shine bright like a star."

Gareth and Kane unconsciously rubbed their magic items that masked their powers. Kane was suddenly very conscious of the ring on his finger, which, like his brother's silver amulet, served to conceal their true power level.

"...By any chance," Kane asked a little nervously, "what happens if they meet a very powerful magic user? I mean, perhaps godlike level?"

"Godlike? Psh." Allen scoffed at the idea. "That's unlikely"

"For the sake of argument, what _would _happen?" Gareth asked.

Allen shrugged "If you're asking whether or not they'd go blind, no. At most, maybe they'd pass out or vomit. All I know is that the more powerful the person or monster, the more visibly overwhelmed they'll get." The archer looked at Sylvia. "Right?"

"More or less." the mage with the dark red hair nodded. "I'm not familiar with the All-Seeing Eyes, but I do know that a powerful magical being can seriously overwhelm their senses, maybe even make them sick."

_Sort of like a flashbang grenade,_ Kane thought.

"The only other mage that I can think of who has that sort of power is Fluder Paradyne"

"Who?" Kane frowned

"The Imperial Court Wizard and head of the Imperial Magic Academy. He's the strongest wizard in the Empire, probably in the entire world." Sylvia said solemnly "Some say that his powers are equal to that of the Thirteen Heroes."

The vampire nodded slowly and made a mental note to write this stuff down later. He was slowly compiling a list of people to avoid, which currently included a supposedly all powerful wizard and magic mega nerd who can see a person's power level.

A soft rumble could be heard and all eyes turned toward the sound. Allen straightened up, all sense of fatigue immediately evaporated. "He's here," the archer announced to the two parties.

Kane jumped to his feet with Randor, and the Good Companions and the White Clovers watched as a column of riders galloped toward the crowd. Leading the column was a pair of riders clad in violet plate armor that shined in the growing light of morning. Behind them was at least a dozen other armored men in ordinary silver armor. In the middle was a shaggy looking man with an eye patch and flowing grey hair that billowed behind him like a banner as he rode.

Riding beside the one-eyed man was a handsome blond man in dark, almost brown looking armor with a crimson and gold trim. The man had short yellow hair, blue eyes and a confident face. The riders circled the crowd and came to a stop at the head of them, with the mountains to their right and the city to their left.

The riders dismounted, and one of them helped the one-eyed man down from his steed. Gareth and Kane looked at the eldest member of the group, and immediately knew that this was.

General Zirdam who, despite his age, radiated strength and experience. The older man was dressed in a dark brown breastplate and had a long scarlet cloak draped around his shoulders.

Randor, meanwhile, raised his eyebrow at the sight of a fellow dwarf, who looked just as old as the general, who dismounted his shaggy looking pony and pushed through the press of finely dressed knights, who circled around the general.

Once he dismounted, the old man waved away the knights that surrounded him, grumbling under his breath. He smoothed out his cloak and stepped forward to address the crowd.

"Gentlemen, ladies," the old man said loudly and clearly, his hoarse voice like sandpaper. "Welcome. I'm glad that so many of you have chosen to accompany me on this little excursion, even if you're doing it for the money."

He paused, and allowed an awkward silence to settle on the crowd. A cool breeze swept through the group, and made the grizzled general's cloak to flap lazily. After a moment, the general gave the crowd a wolfish grin.

"Now that pleasantries are out of the way, let's get to the details of our little journey, shall we?"

The adventurers and workers straightened up and grew more attentive as the blond knight in the dark brown armor and the ancient looking dwarf stepped to the general's side.

"I'm sure some of you were wondering as to why Grolir of the Dwarven Embassy and Sir Nimble Arc Dale Anoch are here. Well it's quite simple really, Grolir is my guest of honor and our guide. Without him, we'd be lost and would probably freeze to death. As to why Sir Anoch is here, well isn't it obvious? I'm important and you're not. If anything were to happen to me, either the Fierce Gale of the Four Imperial Knights or the Bloody Emperor himself would exact terrible vengeance upon the culprit."

Gareth cocked an eyebrow. _Jeez, tell us what you really think,_ the bard thought.

Kane smiled and whispered to his brother. "I like this guy."

"So let that be a warning," General Zirdam said solemnly. "But I don't think that will be much of a problem, considering what we're hunting. One wrong move and you're dragon food."

A brief wave of chatter swept through the crowd.

"Indeed," the general said, his grin widened, "You heard right, we're hunting Frost Dragons. Cold, vicious, unpleasant, can turn a man into a block of ice in a single blast of their ice breath. From what our scouts have reported, they've grown fairly numerous and may one day pose a threat to those who live close to the mountains, Arven included. The Emperor has sanctioned this little expedition, not because I'm his favorite uncle nor is it because of my boyhood dream of slaying one of those scaly bastards, but for the safety of his subjects. How magnanimous of him."

The grey general placed his arms behind his back and began to pace back and forth. "Which is why I have made this an official job for adventurers _and_ workers, to anyone who is courageous or greedy enough to brave the harsh cold and help me slay some dragons. Be warned: Dragons are not easy prey. They're powerful and arrogant. Though not as clever as their lordly kinsmen, the average dragon is smarter than ogres and goblins and are twice as cruel. Watch yourselves out there, follow orders, and you may survive this long enough to earn your coin."

General Zirdam stopped and gestured to some men who stood before him, at the head of the crowd. "A you may already know, I have hired the worker group, Dragon Hunt, to serve as our dragon slaying advisors. You have a question about killing dragons, ask them."

Gareth and Kane followed the gaze of the crowd and saw this Dragon Hunt group. They looked fairly average and could've easily blended in with the crowd of adventurers and workers. Leading the group was an old bald man who looked far older than the general. The old man had wrinkly, leathery skin and wore green samurai like armor. He leaned against a tall spear with a red shaft. Judging from the way the general pointed at the old man as he spoke, the old spear wielder was probably the leader.

"Now then," the general said, stopping and turning to face the small army. "Any questions?"

Nobody said a word. Kane had a mischievous smile on his face, and was raising his hand but was stopped by Gareth. The bard knew well that his brother was going to ask something stupid that would've gotten them in trouble.

After a length of silence, the general clapped his gauntleted hands together, causing them to clack loudly. "Very good! Now, gather the supplies and be ready, we march in an hour. Anyone not ready will be left behind."

The adventurers and workers jumped into action as the clock began ticking for this important mission. Some of the weaker adventurers/workers began to talk amongst themselves nervously, suddenly doubting their own strengths and abilities. Others began to laugh and talk, as if they were going out for beer, either flexing their confidence or trying to hide their own nervousness.

Meanwhile, Gareth and Kane were still unsure on which side of the spectrum of confidence they lied on. On one hand, it's true that they are indeed powerful, being level 100. On the other hand, for all they knew, the Frost Dragons could either be on par with the dragons back in Yggdrasil, or could even be stronger for all they know. Besides, even if _they_ could defeat and slay the dragons, the same most likely can't be the same for the rest of these people, especially the White Clovers, who they have grown somewhat fond of. On top of that, should they fail to defend the Empire's favorite group of people, it could mean the end of the Adventurer's Guild, and they would be partially at fault.

Horse pulled wagons were loaded and the adventurers/workers made sure that they had everything needed for the long road ahead. Soon, the Imperial Knight, Nimble, went through with the leader of Dragon Hunt, Parpatra, and divided the various groups into sections and teams, each with a responsibility. The Good Companions and White Clovers were paired up and assigned as rear guard, along with overseeing some of the lower ranked workers and adventurers. Leto took umbrage with the task but Kane was ecstatic.

"We got the easy job," The vampire told the furious young swordsman. "We just got to hang back and watch the luggage. Meanwhile, Nipple Knight and Old Man Paprika can lead the suicidal charge against the dragons, should we find any."

"This is an insult to my honor as a swordsman!" Leto fumed. "It is beneath me to be guarding a bunch of wagons. I should be at the front aiding Sir Nimble and Parpatra!"

"Are you saying that you wish to fight a pissed off Frost Dragon head on?" Kane asked. "And you do know that Sir Stumbles's primary duty is to guard the general? I mean, you heard him. If you get into trouble, you're on your own."

Leto opened his mouth to retort, but slowly closed it, realizing the truth in the vampire's words.

Kane put an arm around the young swordsman. "Take it from me kid, we got the best job in this whole circus. While everyone else is off sweating and bleeding, we're being paid to mind the luggage."

The hour of preparation came and went and General Zirdam, now back on his steed, directed them onward.

The general and his entourage started off, followed by the adventurers and workers with the supply wagons bringing up the rear as the sun began to rise over the horizon.

The dragon hunting expedition entered the forests north of Arven and continued onward, followed the road. Pale sunlight filtered through the dark woods. Scattered about the column of adventurers and workers, snippets of laughter and conversations could be heard. Gareth could tell that, despite some underlying tensions and hostilities between the various parties, everyone was in good spirits.

The lower ranked and shabbier Adventurers took turns driving, riding, and guarding the wagons. Every few miles the parties would rotate and switch from wagons to walking and making sure there were no bandits or monsters about.

The Good Companions and The White Clovers eventually got their turn on the wagons, getting to rest their feet for a bit and catch a few winks of sleep. Seeing as how Kane wasn't feeling tired at all and was currently chatting with the others, Gareth decided to close his eyes and rest.

* * *

When Gareth opened his eyes, the sun was high in the sky and the air had grown considerably warmer. The expedition had ventured from the main road and began traveling westward, following a narrow, crooked path through the forest. Judging from the overgrown state of the path, it looked like hardly anybody used or maintained it.

Occasionally, they fought a few wild beasts/monsters that dared to challenge them, or they had to cut down some bushes and trees that grew in the way. Aside from that, though, their numbers guaranteed their safety and privacy, and thus, not much happened on their way up the mountains.

The expedition eventually paused to rest and feed. The White Clovers were tending to the supply wagons and eating with some of the adventurers they were in charge of. The Good Companions sat not too far from their group. They gathered in the shade of a moss covered tree. Randor and Lydia had left Gareth and Kane to fetch some lunch from the supply wagon as the two relaxed.

As the two waited for their companions to return, Gareth studied the expedition members. Scattered about along the path, clustered into groups, the adventurers and workers ate, drank, and rested. Further up ahead, Gareth spied Grolir the dwarf speaking to the general, who was surrounded by his violet armored personal guards and the silver cladded imperial soldiers. The general was drinking from a waterskin, seemingly unaffected by the journey or the heat. The dwarf said something and the general didn't seem to acknowledge or react to what the old dwarf said.

Among those close to the general was the old man from Dragon Hunt, Parpatra, who appeared concerned.

"Wonder what they're talking about," Gareth said aloud and looked sideways to his brother.

"Something about the weather up on the mountains," Kane answered softly. The vampire was lying on his back with his hands behind his head. A pair of black lensed pince nez sunglasses was positioned over his eyes to keep out the brilliant sunlight that streamed through the canopy of branches above and landed on his face. "The old guy doesn't like the look of things and is suggesting caution, maybe even postponing this little venture."

The bard glanced back at where the general and his men were. The general lowered his water skin and said something. The dwarf's face turned grim, but he said nothing in return.

"I take it that going home now is out of the question?" Gareth asked.

"Got it in one." Kane acknowledged with a smile.

The bard snorted, before he noticed a young looking blond girl with very short hair staring at him. She was further up the way, closer to the front and with the more notable Worker groups. She sat there, her light blue eyes fixed on him. Judging from her appearance, Gareth assumed that this was that Arche girl Allen talked about. The bard felt weirded out by the staring. He worried that she could see right into his soul and see who he really was, but decided that he was getting worked up over nothing. If she did see something unusual about him, like his power, Arche probably would've done something about it.

Gareth waved at the girl and she just stared at him.

"Sheesh," the bard murmured.

"Is it the girl?" Kane asked, who was still lying there on the ground.

"Yeah"

"Creepy, huh?"

Gareth nodded. He looked at the other people she was sitting with, her team probably. One of them was a violet haired elf woman who was glaring at him. He didn't need any super senses to get that _her_ look was a hostile one. The other two, a pair of blond men, studied them like a soldier would study a target.

"They don't seem very friendly, do they?"

"None of them do." Gareth agreed.

"Want me to beat them up for you?"

"Nah. We'll leave them. Sticks and stones and all that."

Kane nodded and sat up as Randor and Lydia returned from the supply wagons, bearing armfuls of apples, bread slices, and salted meat.

"Here you go, my lords" the silver haired elf said, placing the food on a bit of cloth they had laid out earlier. "Lunch."

"Thank you, Lydia," Gareth said, picking up an apple. He studied it carefully and cleaned it with his sleeve, before taking a bite out of it.

Kane grabbed one of the salted meat slices and procured a vial of blood from the folds of his black cloak, and covertly lathered it on as if he were buttering toast.

As the Good Companions were eating in silence, Kane turned to Randor.

"Hey Randor?"

"Yes sir?" the dwarf blinked, looking at the vampire.

"What did that Grolir guy say to you?"

"What's this?" Gareth asked, interested.

"Apparently Grolir and Randor had a little chat while you were out."

"Oh?" Gareth looked at the raven haired dwarf.

Randor shrugged. "He asked where I was from and why I traveled with two humans and an elf."

"And what did you say?" Gareth asked, genuinely interested and worried. While staying at the Green Dragon, Gareth and Kane discussed the possibility of using a cover story for them and their group. They already lied to the White Clovers and it was very likely that other people are going to try and get information about their past, so it would be beneficial to keep their stories consistent. They shared this idea with Randor and Lydia and, obviously, they accepted it wholeheartedly.

Randor stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I told him that I was from a far distant kingdom of dwarves that few have heard of, and that the people I am traveling with are good friends of mine who saved my life."

Gareth felt slightly relieved. He used the cover story as planned. Good.

"And what did Grolir say?"

"He just nodded."

The bard blinked. "That's it?"

Randor nodded. Gareth let out a small frustrated sigh. That wasn't helpful. While it could simply mean that Grolir was a dwarf of few words but it could also mean that they're fishing for information. They had to do something about this.

"Did I do something wrong, sir?" Randor asked.

"No, no, you were splendid," Gareth reassured him. "For now, we just continue as normal. If Grolir approaches you again, continue to act friendly and try to get to know him."

"Sir?"

"We're new in this world and we need friends," the bard explained. "It might help us if you befriended Grolir. Maybe we can learn more about the dwarves in this world."

Randor nodded, understanding. "Anything else sir?"

"You could try seducing him," Kane added with a smile.

"Kane!"

"Shall I?" Randor asked with all seriousness. "I can do so if that is what you wish?"

"No!" Gareth blushed. "Just-just be his friend. We don't want to cause an incident."

Randor nodded while Kane cackled madly, and continued to do so even though people were looking their way, including Arche and her team.

Gareth lowered his cap in an attempt to hide his face just as a familiar, electronic chime sounded softly in his ear.

The bard blinked in surprise. Someone was trying to reach him via **[Message].**

Looking about and making sure that no one was looking, Gareth raised his hand to his ear and tapped it, answering the call.

**["Hello?"]** Gareth spoke in his mind.

**["My lord!"]** Caroline cried in the bard's head, sounding incredibly relieved. **["Are you and Lord Kane well? Has something happened to Lydia and Randor? Shall we send a rescue party after you? We haven't heard from you in days, and we feared that the worst had happened."]**

The bard cursed himself silently for forgetting to check in on Caroline and the others. The thought had been on the edge of his mind but with all the excitement they'd been having these past few days, Gareth kept putting it off until he forgot about it.

**["No, no we're fine, Caroline, we're just busy."]** Gareth assured the worried angel. **["We've been making great strides in our exploration efforts and lost track of time."]**

**["Thank goodness"] **Caroline said, sounding relieved, though there was still a hint of worry in her voice. **["I'm glad that you are alright, but my lord, I am afraid that there's a...situation here at the inn."]**

Gareth frowned, and felt a twinge of fear.

**["What kind of situation?"]**

Before Caroline could answer, one of General Zirdam's men marched down the line of adventurers and workers, bellowing, "Alright you lot, gather your belongings, we're moving out in two minutes!"

The bard scowled at the back of the man's head and tried asking Caroline to repeat what she had just said. For a moment there was nothing. All around Gareth, the knots of adventurers and workers collected their things and began to stir from their rest. Feeling a bit rushed and not wanting to raise a bunch of awkward questions by standing around with his fingers in his ears, Gareth spoke quickly and urgently to his NPC.

**["Caroline, I know that you are fully capable of handling any 'situation', which is why we put you in charge. Take care of this situation in whatever way you see fit. I wish we can help or give you further instruction, but we are in the middle of a situation ourselves. We will return as soon as possible via a Gate. Please be careful."]**

Gareth severed the link right there and helped his brother and their NPCs prepare for the journey onward.

A few minutes later, the expedition was on the move once more.

* * *

It was around sunset that the expedition stopped to camp for the night. Following their brief respite in the woods, the expedition carried on up the wild, unkempt forest road. They traversed the forest until they came to the start of their ascent into the mountains: a narrow pass that led up and through the mountains. The journey up the mountains was slow going. Everyone on the expedition had to keep silent and move as silently as possible in an attempt to keep their presence hidden from the various goblin and ogre tribes that dwelt within this part. The goblins were only somewhat dangerous, but from what Marcus and other more experienced Adventurers were saying, the goblins were the least of their worries.

The higher one went up the Azerlisia Mountains, the more dangerous the monsters got. Above the ogres and goblins, who kept to the caves and areas closer to the foothills and base of the mountains, were direwolves, manticores, and kobolds. Above them all were the Frost Giants and Frost Dragons.

The wagons bounced and shuddered on the rough, rocky path, and one wagon nearly went over the edge due to a sudden rockslide, but the White Clovers, aided by Kane, managed to pull the wagon back to safety.

Eventually, as the sky turned orange and gold, the expedition came to a spacious clearing that offered shelter from the cold winds that swept down from the snow capped peaks while also providing a breathtaking view of the land below.

The wagons were drawn into a circle, and the combined mages set up protective wards and shields against any possible night attacks. Once everything was secured and accounted for, the expedition's members made camp within the parameter.

Scattered campfires were formed for every adventurer and worker team huddled around each dancing flame, cooking and socializing as the night deepened.

The Good Companions and the White Clovers sat around their own fire with Screaming Whip, sharing a hot stew of meat and potatoes. As Gareth toyed with his bowl of steaming broth, the bard's attention was focused on the mountains that rose above them in the distance.

In the dark, the shadows of the mountains reminded him of dragon teeth, and made him shiver a little.

Gareth was by no means an outdoorsy type, very few were back home, but he always imagined what it'd be like to go camping out in nature like people did long ago. Well, he got his wish, only instead of bears and skunks, Gareth has to worry about dragons, goblins, and giants.

"Psst, hey. Hey!"

The bard blinked and looked and saw Kane. The vampire was staring at him.

"What?"

Kane nodded at his brother's untouched dinner. "You gonna eat that?"

Gareth moved the bowl away from the vampire. "Yeah, I am"

"Just checking."

"Sir Gareth," a new voice spoke.

Gareth and Kane looked, and saw that the voice belonged to one of the members of Screaming Whip, which came as a bit of a surprise for the duo. For the length of the journey, neither of them had heard any of the gold ranked adventurers speak, except for maybe a few brief words or questions relating to only the expedition.

"Yes?" the bard answered.

"Is it true that you and your party defeated Zasin and the Winter Wolves?"

Gareth nodded.

Looks of surprise and astonishment appeared on each of their faces.

"Why do people keep asking us this?" Kane grumbled in annoyance. "Yes, we kicked their asses, and we barely broke a sweat. Why is it so hard to believe?"

"S-sorry! I-I didn't mean to offend you, Sir Kane," the plain looking adventurer apologized hastily. "It's just...the Winter Wolves have an impressive record of victories."

"Had," the vampire corrected. "they _had_ an impressive record, until they decided to pick a fight with us."

"And please don't call us Sir," Gareth added gently. "We're not knights. We're just Gareth and Kane of the Good Companions, two honest adventurers. Besides, our friends Lydia and Randor had a hand in dealing with their defeat as well."

The raven haired dwarf puffed up his chest and Lydia lowered her head bashfully.

"Another question," another member of Screaming Whip piped up. "Is it true that you're from a far away land?"

"That's right!" Sylvia chimed in, cutting Gareth off. "A land which none of us has ever heard of!"

"Sylvia," Marcus scowled. "Manners."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"That's quite alright," Gareth chuckled good naturedly. "Someone's bound to ask us these questions eventually. But yes, we're from a far distant land."

"What brought you to the Baharuth Empire?"

The bard shrugged. "No reason really. My comrades and I simply wandered into these lands and, being a bard, I thought it'd be beneficial to stay and learn of these lands. We hoped to join the Adventurers Guild to see what adventurers in these lands do, how they lived, and maybe earn some money and do some good."

His explanation drew some nods and pensive looks. However, one of the Screaming Whips appeared awed.

"You're a bard?" the man asked.

"Of course, why else would I dress in this fashion?" Gareth asked.

Kane smirked. "I can think of three good reasons." The vampire received an elbow to the ribs.

"Can you play us a song?" the adventurer asked, setting aside his empty bowl.

Gareth blinked and hesitated. "I don't know…"

"Oh please!" Sylvia pleaded "We could all use a good song. This journey has been sooo boring!"

"Well, I don't know any songs that any of you may be familiar with."

Allen shrugged. "Doesn't really matter, we'll settle for anything, as long as it's good."

Gareth didn't feel like singing very much. He was full of anxiety, and his mind kept drifting back to Caroline. He worried about her wellbeing and of the others back at the inn. For all he knew, they were all dead now and he and his brother were stuck on some mountain and they were probably going to get eaten by dragons. Maybe they shouldn't have taken this job. Maybe he should've gone for that Wizard class when he first started Yggdrasil all those years ago. It was a sort of running joke among his old guild that the bard was in charge of the tunes. Occasionally, he'd pipe in some music from his playlist during a battle or dungeon raid over voice chat, silly songs or songs that got the guild pumped up, but nothing beyond that.

The occasional strumming and singing that he had done in the past were just practice and roleplaying. He only really knew how to play a few classic songs from a bunch of instructional videos online and countless hours of practice. Beyond that, Gareth wasn't at all confident of his musical abilities.

Before he could really protest further or offer a proper excuse, a new voice spoke up from behind him.

"Are you going to sing?"

Gareth turned his head and nearly jumped in surprise. Standing there was General Zirdam, Grolir, Nimble, and a quartet of the general's personal guard, the knights in violet.

"Y-Yes, yes I was!" Gareth laughed nervously. "Got any requests, general?"

The grizzled one-eyed man shrugged. "Can be anything really, just so long as it's none of that sappy, sentimental drivel that bards usually screech at feasts and festivals, you know? Of 'glorious battles' and bold heroes rescuing fair maidens. I've heard them all and honestly, I'm over them. Those songs sort of lose their appeal once you've been in a real battle and seen your friend have his guts ripped out in front of you."

The bard swallowed and took a deep breath. "Of course" he said with a smile. He gestured to some vacant spots in the circle around the campfire. "Sit general, please. Rest your feet and relax by our fire."

Zirdam smiled. "Don't mind if I do."

The grey haired general walked around the group and plopped down across from Gareth. Nimble, Grolir, and Zirdam's guards squeezed in around him, pushing aside the White Clovers and Screaming Whip.

Sylvia pouted, having wanted to hear a lovely, cheerful song but didn't want to argue with the man who was going to pay her at the end of this job.

One of Screaming Whip's members offered the general his bowl of stew and his cup of wine, which the grey haired man accepted graciously, despite Nimble's feeble attempt at protest.

"Well?" Zirdam asked, after sipping from his cup of wine. "I'm waiting."

Gareth frowned and wracked his brain for a song he could sing. He took the general's criteria into account, no sappy or sentimental songs. Of course not, a grizzled old general like him probably wanted something to match his mood or desires. But what was the old man feeling? What did he want?

The bard activated his angelic senses and reached out and felt the old man's emotions.

Loneliness, sorrow, anger, guilt and remorse. Lots and lots of remorse.

To put it simply, General Zirdam seemed to be going through some depressing issues and should probably seek help. However, this oddly gave Gareth an idea. The moment he read the old warrior's emotions, a specific song came to mind, clear as day. He remembered hearing this song during a rather depressing weekend, but despite having heard it only once, Gareth could see the notes and the lyrics perfectly in his mind.

"I have a song for you, General," Gareth said at last. "It's not sappy or sentimental. I'm...I'm not particularly sure what it is."

The general raised a bushy eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Songs can be anything to anyone. A single song can have so many meanings to so many people that it is difficult to say for certain. But I can assure you that this is better than some trite ballad of knights and gallantry."

Zirdam raised his cup and belched. "Play on, then."

Gareth unslung his lute from his back and began to play. The tune was slow and sounded melancholy. The bard sighed and sang softly, "_I want God to come and take me home, 'cause I'm all alone in this world. Who are you to me? Who am I supposed to be? Not exactly sure anymore…"_

Everyone was silent as the music washed over them. For Gareth, the world seemed to fade into the background as he continued the song.

"_Does anyone ever get this right? I feel no love...To be vulnerable is needed most of all, If you intend to truly fall apart…"_

The song flowed by like a river. The bard felt at peace, relaxed. It was as if a piece of the built up stress and energy within him flowed forth with the words, carrying away some of the pressure and anxiety. Before he knew it, Gareth came to the end and he finished with a small flourish.

Silence filled the void that the bard's music left, leaving space for only the crackling and popping of the firewood.

The bard looked up at his audience and saw a mixture of reactions. Slyvia, along with some of Screaming Whip, looking said and on the verge of tears. Marcus, Allen, Bruno, and Leto were silent and unreadable. Nimble didn't seem phased, but General Zirdam looked surprised.

Gareth looked to Kane, who was off to his left, swishing around his cup of blood infused wine. The vampire gave his brother a thumbs up.

Following the length of silence, Zirdam cleared his throat.

"Well…" the grizzled old warrior sniffed and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "That was a surprise. Never thought a dandy little cream puff like you could sing a song like that."

_Cream puff?_ Gareth thought, not sure what to make of the nickname.

"Well, that settles it!" Zirdam declared, rising to his feet "You'll be riding in front with my entourage."

"I'm sorry?" Gareth blinked.

"You see, I heard all sorts of talk about this...bard and his pals showing up that little pissant Zasin," the general explained "And I thought, 'pfft, there's no way. Probably just a fluke,' but apparently you're the real deal."

"How can you tell?" Kane asked, equally confused as his brother.

"Finding a good bard is rare these days," Zirdam continued "It's not just the instrument or even the songs they sing. It's the _power_ behind their music. When a bard sings, in battle or at an ordinary gathering, an astute observer can tell how strong a bard is by the power they put behind their singing. You sir, are the real deal."

Gareth frowned. He sort of grasped what the old general was getting at but there were parts that still eluded him.

"T-thank you, general," the bard stammered. "But it wouldn't be right to split up with my crew, since we work better as a unified team."

"They can come too," the general said, waving a dismissive hand. "I'll rotate those putzes from Black Chalice to the rear guard. They're such an annoyance and I'm going to need every competent and powerful person I can get up front if I want at least half of us to get out of this alive. I already got Dragon Hunt and that little magical child prodigy, Arche. Might do us some good to have a bard of your level with us. Besides" the general gave the bard a humorous smile "we could always use some traveling music."

Gareth smiled lamely, but said nothing.

"Well, I'm off to see the rest of the men and collect what the elf girl owes me from our little...wager."

"What elf girl?"

"The one from Foresight." The general pointed towards Foresight's campfire "She swore up and down that you were just some pretty boy who got in on luck or money and we, Grolir and I, said otherwise. So, we made a small wager to see if I can prove if you were real and you are! Congratulations, you made me five coppers richer!"

Both Gareth and Kane were unsure how to feel about this, other than that they were starting to dislike this Foresight group. Zirdam bid the assembled adventurers goodnight as he departed, moving on to another crowded campfire.

Kane's head snapped over to where Foresight had set up camp, and saw the party inquisition eating quietly and talking in hushed tones.

As the White Clovers and Screaming Whip resumed their dinner and conversations, Kane and Gareth stared at Foresight.

The vampire scowled at Workers and growled. "What's their problem?"

"I don't know and I don't care," Gareth murmured "The sooner we get through this, the sooner we get back to the inn."

"Why?"

The bard explained to his brother the call he received from Caroline, and the vampire snorted.

"What?"

"I wouldn't be too concerned for Caroline, oh brother of mine," Kane explained as he gazed into his cup of blood wine. "I'd be more concerned for whoever gets in her way."

The bard felt a measure of comfort and concern in his brother's words. Caroline was strong, but he was concerned with what may be happening in their absence. He prayed that whatever was happening back at the Bronze Ox was settled without much bloodshed and chaos.

* * *

Morning came and went. The hunting expedition got up and resumed their journey, following the narrow mountain road southward for a considerable amount of time. Despite catching a glimpse of the occasional kobold or direwolf, the sizable band of warriors went unhindered. The sky grew dark grey and the temperature gradually plummeted as they climbed higher into the mountains.

Gareth and the rest of the Good Companions rode with General Zirdam's entourage. The bard rode beside Arche behind the general, Grolir, and Nimble. The general's personal guards and the imperial soldiers surrounded them, keeping an eye out for any dangers from the woods and the sky, although they did occasionally glance at them, eying them with disdain.

Bored and uncertain about what he's supposed to be doing, Gareth tried making small talk with Arche, but failed. The blonde youth was silent, and purposefully turned away and ignored him whenever he tried to speak directly to her.

Kane scowled, and murmured something vulgar about her.

As the path zigzagged through a narrow pass that took them between high rock walls, General Zirdam turned back at Gareth, Arche, and the other adventurers and workers close to him.

"Keep a sharp eye out," he warned."Grolir says we're getting close. Lots of Frost Giants and Dragons in the area."

Everyone nodded solemnly, and passed the word along down to the others toward the rear of the column.

Through the zigzagged pass, the rocks and sparse trees slowly gave way to a seemingly endless expanse of snow and ice, dotted by boulders and frozen, twisted corpses of trees. The wind whistled and shrieked through the air, chilling them to their bones. As the expedition pressed on through the howling wind and flurry of snowflakes, Nimble of the Four Imperial Knights pulled up beside Zirdam and spoke in a low tone. Gareth leaned in and managed to catch snippets that were carried down wind.

"General, I don't like this," the blond knight said, his voice filled with unease. "We should turn back...could storm soon…"

"Not until we get what we came for…" The general growled.

"Sir, this is madness…"

The conversation continued as such for a short distance before Grolir raised a fist, and the general bellowed a command for everyone to stop. The column immediately obeyed.

The dwarf dismounted his pony and trudged forth from behind the wall of knights. He trudged a short distance ahead through the snow until he came to a stop.

"Oh no…" Kane murmured.

"What is it?" Gareth asked.

The vampire looked at his brother and with all seriousness, said, "We need to go."

"What is it, Grolir?!" The general asked loudly over the wind.

The dwarf knelt and began brushing away the snow, revealing something large. General Zirdam urged his horse forward and motioned for Nimble and the rest of his entourage to follow. As they drew closer, Gareth felt a pit grow in his stomach. He felt as if he knew that something bad was coming but didn't know what.

When they reach Grolir, Zirdam and a few of his men dismounted and helped the ancient looking dwarf brush away snow until they uncovered the savaged remains of a white-blue dragon.

Arche jumped back in surprise while Kane whistled in appreciation.

The dragon was big. It's head was big enough to gulp a rider and his mount in one bite. The scales of the dragon were a dark blue, which contrasted with its pearly white under belly.

The scariest part wasn't the fact that this dragon was killed by something. The wounds were pretty gut wrenching alone: its bat-like wings were tattered ribbons and huge chunks of its scaly body were missing, and the edges of these gaps were charred and blackened. The terrifying part was the fact that when Grolir urged the general to touch the body, Zirdam did so, peeling off his gauntlet and placing his calloused hand onto the dragon's unmoving neck. The old warrior's eye widened as he scrambled backwards.

"It's still warm," he said aloud, which made everyone immediately become alert and uneasy.

"A recent kill," Parpatra of Dragon Hunt murmured, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Possibly a Frost Giant or an enemy dragon."

"Not like this," Grolir rumbled, his voice was like gravel. "This was...something else." He sniffed the air, and scowled. "There was fire...a lot of it. Burnt this dragon something fierce. Frost Dragons are weak to fire."

Gareth noticed Kane looking about, his head stopping on a single point among the blizzard of grey snowflakes. The vampire drew his swords and the bard did the same.

Arche stared at the two, curiosity and suspicion written on her face.

"But what could've killed the dragon like this?" Zirdam wondered aloud. "A mage? Perhaps another party?"

"General," Gareth called to the old warrior. "I think we should-"

Before he could finish, a loud, bone chilling roar sounded, followed by another. Zirdam's guards formed up around the general and Grolir. Nimble drew his sword and down the way, the other adventurers and workers drew their weapons.

From out of the flurry of snow and low hanging, grey clouds came a horde of gigantic, monstrous blue skinned men in shabby furs, wielding clubs and swords made of ice, stone, and metal.

"Frost Giants!" Arche cried out in alarm.

"Now we're talking!" Kane said with a savage grin, twirling one of his black bladed short swords.

Gareth stood in awe of the sight. Ordinarily he would be terrified, but he was strangely calm, and looked at these creatures not as monsters, but as curiosities from another world.

The Frost Giants were what he had pictured: gigantic, blue humanoids that exuded ice-cold brutality. Their clothes were plain, and their demeanor befitted a group of magical beings who lived in one of the harshest extremes in a medieval fantasy world.

The bard shook his head and snapped out of his fascination. There was a battle to be won, and lives were on the line.

Zirdam's guards held their ground and leveled their weapons for the approaching onslaught. However, Arche leveled a staff wrapped in bandages at the charging giants and cried loudly, "**[Acid Arrow]**!"

A lime-green glowing magical circle appeared at the end of her staff, and a green energy bolt shot forth and struck the lead giant square in the chest. The spell sizzled and ate away at the giant's fur clothing, and began to burn the creature's chest. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to do anything other than to piss it off even more.

Nimble stepped up beside her and aimed his sword at the giants. "**[Whirlwind Lance]**!" the knight cried, and a cone of spiraling winter air shot from the tip of the blade. The cone spun like a power drill and tore through the wounded Frost Giant's chest.

The giant staggered back, clutching the gaping wound it had just received and fell over. This didn't slow the other giants. Instead, they seemed to be spurred on by the death of their comrade.

Nimble launched another **[Whirlwind Lance]** while Arche tried to slow the giants with a volley of **[Magic Arrows]**.

As Kane, Gareth and the other adventurers attempted to join the frey, more monstrous roars sounded from behind. They turned and saw more Frost Giants emerging from the snow and clouds, roaring angrily and brandishing their weapons.

"More of them?" Parpatra exclaimed.

"Oh this just gets better and better!" Kane hooted.

Gareth tried to get a handle on what's going on. Arche, Nimble, Grolir, and the rest of Zirdam's escorts were trying to deal with a dozen enraged Frost Giants on one side, while at the same time, this new wave was currently barreling toward the supply wagons and their fellow adventurers.

"Kane!" the bard yelled to his brother. "Go help the others! We can't afford to lose those wagons or the others!"

"On it!" Kane gave a small salute and was gone, leaving whirling snow behind in his wake.

"Lydia, Randor, go protect the general!"

The elf and the dwarf nodded and they rushed off to lend Nimble and Arche a hand.

Very quickly there were screams filling the air. Briefly, Gareth could tell that they were human screams, pained, dying screams. But just as quickly as those screams arose, deep, bartone screams joined the chaos.

Down by the wagons and the column of adventurers and workers, a black shape zipped around among the Frost Giants, slicing and cutting their exposed legs. The giants roared angrily and swiped at the shape with their weapons, hitting only snow.

Gareth cringed at the wounds and deaths that were dealt, but he told himself that it was necessary. Soon the situation turned from an ambush to a slaughter as more Frost Giants fell than humans, mostly thanks to the Good Companions and Nimble. But just as soon as life seemed to have given the people a break, an enormous Frost Giant lumbered into view. This giant was big, even for a Frost Giant. He was twice the size of the ones who were currently attacking them, only he sported a full beard, a cloak made from the hide and pelts of various animals, and had a dragon skull on each shoulder, using them as pauldrons.

"Who in blue blazes is that?" Kane asked aloud, appearing at his brother's side.

"The King of the Frost Giants!?" Grolir cried hoarsely. The ancient dwarf was covered in sweat and dark Frost Giant blood.

"Ah, thank you." Kane grinned.

The King of the Frost Giants scanned the battlefield with cold, analytical eyes. He noted his dead subordinates lying in the snow. A deep, angry scowl formed on the king's face and he let out a deep, powerful roar that made the ground rumble. The great Frost Giant raised aloft a wooden staff the size of a telephone pole, topped by another dragon's skull and moved it in a circle, as if he were trying to stir a cauldron. The eyeless sockets of the dragon's skull glowed bright white, and the clouds swirled around the king's staff.

Snow began to fall in earnest, completely filling the world with white fragments. The wind screamed like a banshee, hurling the falling snow in their faces. Gareth shielded his face. More human screams joined the wind's own, making it difficult to discern how many more of their comrades were falling. Closeby, he heard Randor bellow angrily in dwarvish and he saw a radiant burst of orange flames burn a hole in this raging blizzard. Despite this defiance, the blizzard continued to bombard the beleaguered adventurers, threatening to bury them.

The angelic bard gritted his teeth and unslung his lute. He already had a spell in mind that could blow this so-called king out of the water. But before he could use it, something odd happened.

FWOOM! BOOM!

Whatever spell the King was about to finish conjuring stopped dead in its tracks as something flew at its chest. The unexpected missile exploded on contact, sending the King flying backwards as it roared in pain and surprise.

"HA HA, got you~!" a feminine voice cheered. Everyone turned towards their unexpected savior - with most of them dropping their jaw.

Perched atop a towering slab of rock that overlooked the scene was a pale girl, who was _severely_ underdressed for this weather. Wearing a skimpy, leather top that looked more like a bra, she also wore an almost equally skimpy purple shorts. The only thing that looked even remotely appropriate for this terrain and weather was her boots, which was covered in mud and snow.

What made her stand out even more, however, was her electric-blue hair, which was long and tied into two braids that dangled down to her waist, as well as her red eyes, which almost seemed to glow in the dim atmosphere.

The King of the Frost Giants let out a pained roar, which snapped everyone out of their shock of the surprise attack. Its roar of anger and pain sent shivers down most of their spines, but the new girl just scoffed.

"Seriously, screaming helps...not at all." Her face then turned into an eerie grin as she lifted her weapon.

Gareth's eyes widened as he recognized what it was moments before she squeezed the trigger.

FWOOM! BOOM!

The giant roared as it was hit by another rocket, courtesy of the girl's odd-looking rocket launcher.

"Ptchoo~" the girl breathed as she hopped down from the slab of rock. She skipped towards the giant monster as if she was having a lovely stroll down the park.

As she got closer, the ground rumbled as the King of the Frost Giants pushed himself up off the ground, hatred and rage filling his blue face. He cradled his chest with one hand. Steam and the smell of burnt flesh slipped between his fingers.

"Aw, you're so cute when you're mad!" she giggled, and directed her weapon at the wounded giant. "Any last words?"

Oddly enough, the giant gave the girl a nasty, crooked smile, displaying its yellowed and rotten teeth. The air suddenly became filled with a deep thumping that grew louder and closer in a matter of seconds. The girl paused and turned and saw a gigantic blue-white dragon burst through the murky grey clouds.

Gareth's eyes widened. This dragon was easily twice the size of the dead one they found, with a wingspan that could sweep aside villages and a head that could crush a house.

The dragon bared its claws and swooped down, grabbing the giant by the arms and hoisted him off the ground in one swift move. The giant and the dragon hastily ascended into the sky, carried aloft by the dragon's massive wings, hoping to lose their attackers in the clouds.

The blue haired girl grinned. "Oh no you don't!" she leveled her weapon and took aim, but frowned. "Too far...Time to bring out the big one!"

She pushed a button on her shark-like rocket launcher, before she took aim again.

The blue haired girl squeezed the trigger, and strands of crackling blue-green energy bounced around her deadly weapon, and quickly joined to form a glowing orb of raw magical energy.

"Oh shit" Gareth breathed in recognition. He turned and bellowed, "Everybody down!"

The bard, Kane, and half of the expedition dived for cover in the snow as the girl released the trigger.

"CATCH!"

FWOOM!

An even _larger_ missile suddenly fired from her launcher, and for a second, Gareth thought that this missile had a smiley face painted on it.

The large, red missile flew towards the two creatures, with the King screeching in fear as it grew closer to the dragon.

BOOM!

* * *

Somewhere on the other side of the mountains, another team of adventurers were doing their own escort mission. The group was considerably smaller, and were tasked with guarding a less prominent figure. The adventurers were currently following a dirt road heading towards a remote and tiny village named Carne. The employer of the adventurers was a skinny young man in ragged work clothes with a blond bowl cut that covered half of his face.

His name was Nfirea Bareare, grandson of the famous pharmacist, Lizzie Bareare.

Escorting him was a young, skilled and fairly optimistic team of Adventurers known as the Swords of Darkness. Among this group were two peculiar and noticeable new additions: two new copper-ranked adventurers who hoped to keep a low profile and gather information of this strange new land they were in. One was a towering giant of a man clad in obsidian colored armor with a gold trim. He carried two large black swords on his back and kept the visor of his helmet down, masking his features to all. Meanwhile the other was a beautiful raven haired woman who was half his size. She had a cool, steely glare and spoke only when necessary. Though she hoped to keep a low profile like her companion, the raven haired woman quickly earned the attention of a lovesick, tenacious young man who happened to be traveling with them at this very moment.

So far they had come across a band of ogres and goblins, and collected a substantial amount of their ears to trade in as proof of their deeds for gold. After that, it was just bland, uneventful walking and escorting.

As the group skirted the edge of the Azerlisia Mountain range, the large, armored man paused, before he turned his gaze toward the mountains.

"Something wrong?" asked Peter, the leader of the Swords of Darkness, who paused beside the armored giant.

"...I thought I heard something coming from the mountains." the man murmured.

"Oh, that's probably just thunder. Those mountains get all kinds of storms during this time of year," Nfirea explained. "It's nothing to worry about, Sir Momon."

The black knight nodded, although he couldn't help but stare back at the mountains one last time.

_I could've sworn that I detected a surge of magical energy for a moment,_ he thought to himself.

"Does anything live up in those mountains?"

"All kinds of monsters," Ninya supplied, "like Frost Giants and Frost Dragons but other than that..." the young caster shrugged.

The one called Momon hummed, intrigued and cast a cautionary glance back toward the mountains. His prior experience with dragons was costly. If the dragons here were as dangerous as the ones back in Yggdrasil, then he had to keep a wary eye out. There was also that brief surge of energy.

Perhaps Nfirea was right, maybe it was just a summer storm. Momon nodded to himself, though he didn't seem to convince himself as something at the back of his mind bothered him, and will continue to do so for the remainder of the journey.

* * *

**(a/n: so? what do you think? Been a while but we get a brief appearance by Ainz and Narberal. Don't worry, we'll be seeing more of them in time. I guess I should've marked this a OC centric story in the description. The song lyrics featured here are from _The __Vampyre of Time and Memory_ by Queens of the Stone Age. Anyway, until next time.)**


	9. Upward Over the Mountain

**(a/n: Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please leave a review and all that. Big thanks to Lucius Walker for his help.)**

* * *

Ch.9: Upward Over the Mountain

The sky gradually became a dark, endless field of grey as Gareth, Kane, and the rest of General Zirdam's dragon hunting expedition trudged behind Jinx. The blue haired, scantily dressed woman led them to what they hoped was safety. The trail snaked upwards through a narrow rocky pass. The blue haired young woman skipped onward, unfazed by the frigid temperature, by the deep snow surrounding them, or by the potential dangers that could be lurking atop the high rock walls that surrounded them.

General Zirdam and the rest of the expedition kept their eyes peeled for any further possible ambushes or unfriendly eyes lurking in the shadows of rocks, and in nearly unnoticeable crevices in the cliffs rising around them.

Occasionally, Jinx stopped to shout back words of encouragement to the weary expedition, though Gareth could sense that she was making light of their state and situation. The blond bard turned in his saddle glanced at the ragged adventurers and workers. In the fading light, the weary remnants of the expedition hiked up the trail behind him at a sluggish pace. Cold but alert, the adventurers and workers kept their weapons in hand and did what they could to keep warm.

Though their numbers were still relatively high, with only a few deaths and some serious injuries, the enthusiastic and optimistic atmosphere seemed to have been sucked dry in the course of a single day. It was probably for the best though, Gareth concluded. They were in a dangerous mountain range filled with all sorts of monsters that could rip an experienced Adventurer to pieces if he was careless. Had it not for Jinx and Kane, the fatalities and injuries could've been far worse and more numerous.

The few remaining supply wagons trundled closely behind, with mages and adventures clearing a path through the snow with magic and shovels, allowing easier passage, though the rocky terrain and gradual incline made it increasingly more arduous and difficult.

In the silent grey twilight, Gareth could hear moans and whimpering coming from the wounded that were loaded into the back of one of the wagons they had emptied earlier to help carry their injured.

The bard sighed deeply, and silently promised to help alleviate the injuries of the suffering adventurers.

It had been only a few hours since the Frost Giant attack, and the expedition was still reeling. The bard thought back to what had occurred.

* * *

**(A Few Hours Ago)**

Once the blinding, thunderous explosion had stopped, Gareth and Kane picked themselves up and watched as the smoke and wintry clouds faded, revealing nothing but the cold, grey skies. The King of the Frost Giants and his enormous dragon pet were gone.

A length of silence passed by, which was interrupted by raucous, joyous laughter. The blue haired woman pumped her fist and did a little victory dance. "Bullseye!" she chortled.

The adventurers and workers raised their heads from the snowy ground and stared in amazement and shock at their scantily clad savior. Judging from their expressions and from the suspicious and frightened chatter that arose in the new silence, Gareth concluded that none of them had seen a rocket launcher before. A bit shocking, to say the least, for a bunch of people from a world that was rather medieval. This was going to take some explaining and some serious adjustments. This trip just keeps getting better and better.

Slowly, the expedition snapped out of their daze, and picked themselves up from the snow. The Frost Giants that they were battling were gone, having fled when they saw their fearless leader and his pet go up in a gigantic fireball. The few who didn't heed the bard's warning about taking cover were still rattled by the force and brilliance of the explosion. A dozen or so individuals remained lying on their backs, eyes and jaws wide open with shock. Their comrades helped them to their wobbly feet and brought them out of their daze.

General Zirdam, Grolir, Sir Nimble, and the rest general's entourage got to work gathering what they could from the dead Frost Giants, and took a head count to see how many were still alive and present.

The blonde girl Arche stood a short distance away from Gareth, staring in wonder at the gigantic bodies littering the snow, now stained with scattered pools of dark blood and gore.

As the expedition slowly regrouped and collected itself, Gareth's attention focused on the blue haired maniac. The expedition's savior was a short distance away, chattering incessantly to herself about how she scored a winning shot, and how the force of the explosion nearly knocked her socks off. In the corner of his eye, a familiar dark shape appeared.

"Dude, you're seeing this, right?" Kane asked his brother in a whisper.

"Yeah," the bard replied, glancing at his brother. "I'm seeing what you're seeing."

"But how is _she_ here?"

Gareth shrugged. "I don't know."

"Does this mean that there could be others? From Yggdrasil, I mean. D-do you think that Wilhelm or maybe Alice might be here as well? Maybe some NPCs and items? Aw shit, you don't think that damn 'world devouring' snake thing is here, do you?"

"I don't know!" Gareth snapped. He took a moment to calm himself down, before he spoke softly. "I don't know. There's a lot that we don't know for sure, but now's not the time. First things first, we get off this mountain, and then we can figure this out."

"Figure what out?" asked a cheerful voice.

Gareth spun around, and saw the blue haired woman's face inches away from his own. The bard stumbled backward and instinctively leveled his weapon. The woman giggled.

Randor and Lydia rushed to the bard's side, weapons drawn and ready for a fight, but the blue haired woman raised her hands in surrender.

"Relax~" she laughed, and flashed the dwarf and the elf a wide grin, revealing a set of pearly white teeth. Gareth noted how her canines were slightly longer and sharper than a regular human's. "I'm friendly. I won't bite...much."

"Hey, that's my line!" Kane said in an exaggerated whiny tone.

"Jinx?" Gareth said, which caught the scantily dressed woman's attention.

"That's my name, don't wear it out" she chirped and gave the bard a salute.

"How...why are you here?"

Jinx tapped her chin thoughtfully as a ponderous look crossed her pale grey features. "Hmm, that's the question, isn't it? Why _are _we all here?"

Gareth exhaled. "I mean _here_, on this mountain, in this world?"

The blue haired woman shrugged. "I dunno. All I know is that boss man sent me out on patrol to take care of any frosty hobos who might pose a threat, and return to base with anything interesting or valuable."

"Boss man?" Gareth frowned. Realization appeared on his face. "Wait, you mean Damien's here too? How many more of you are there, and what do you mean, base?"

"Uh huh," Jinx confirmed, folding her arms. "The boss-man himself and Daedalus's Forge are here. It's just us, D-man, myself, my dorky, hot sisters, and all of the boss man's tinker toys."

"It seems that we might not be the only losers to have logged into Yggdrasil in its final moments," Kane whispered to his brother.

Gareth nodded, and felt a smile form on his lips. Another old face from Yggdrasil. What are the odds of that happening?

As soon as the smile formed, however, it began to falter.

If they weren't the only ones to have shown up during Yggdrasil's final moments, how many others were also stuck in this new world? Were they frightened and alone, or were they with friends and family members? According to the bard's knowledge, it's been roughly a week and a half since he and Kane ended up here. The bard hoped that those other people, whoever and wherever they were, were alright, and had not died or had been imprisoned, or gone all Colonel Kurtz on everyone, and were now collecting severed heads.

The bard's thoughts were interrupted by a sharp jab from Kane. Gareth looked at him, and then he saw General Zirdam and his men approaching.

"General!" Gareth greeted the grizzled old man with a smile. "How are things looking?"

"Well, we're not looking too bad," General Zirdam grunted. "At least a dozen injuries, several dead, and two missing. We lost two of the wagons and some of the horses ran off. But overall, not the worst thing that's happened under my watch."

The general and his men came to a halt before the Good Companions and Jinx. The grey haired old warrior studied Jinx with a mix of fascination and uncertainty, particularly the rocket launcher strapped to her back.

After a moment, the general dipped his head to Jinx.

"Thank you for the rescue," Zirdam said sincerely. "We might've been dragon feed if you didn't show up, Ms…?"

"Jinx!" the blue haired woman in question replied cheerfully

Nimble frowned. "Jinx what?"

"Just Jinx."

"What manner of weapon is that?" Grolir asked, nodding to the missile launcher on her back.

"Oh, this little guy?" Jinx unslung her weapon, and hoisted it over her left shoulder. She began to move its metal jaw up and down, mimicking the act of talking. "_Hey guys, my name's Fishbones, Jinx's favorite weapon. I blow stuff up by shooting rockets outta ma mouth, even though I don't want her too."_

"...You do know that I can replace you, right?" Jinx huffed, before she shrugged. "Anyways, like my friend here just said, he blows shit up, whether he wants to or not. Ha!"

"...Er, right." Grolir said, suddenly beginning to question the woman's sanity. "Did you make this fine...weapon, by any chance?"

"Sure did!" She said cheerfully, before she frowned. "...Well, okay, my boss designed the basic outline of it, but I'm the one that completed it! ...And gave it more life. At least, that's what my backstory says."

An awkward silence fell upon the general and his companions. Kane facepalmed, and Gareth decided to step in before things got even weirder.

"Anyway, Miss Jinx here has graciously invited us to join her boss, who is willing to lend us safe shelter until we can recover our wounds. Right?"

"I have?" Jinx blinked.

Gareth gave her a look, to which she stared at him blankly, until she snapped her fingers.

"Oh, righhht. Yep, uh huh, that's exactly what I did. Ha ha!"

_For the love of god,_ Gareth groaned in his head.

Fortunately, at the mention of possible safe haven and aid, Zirdam, Grolir, and the others grew more attentive and responsive.

"Is your...boss close?" Zirdam asked.

"Uh, yeah. Pretty close."

"Good enough," the general nodded, turning his back to the blue haired woman and the bard. "We need to find shelter before dark. If you think that ambush was bad, spending a night out in these mountains is even worse."

"That sounds cool! Can we camp out? Ooh, maybe we can cook some s'mores!" Jinx chattered, and Gareth quickly clamped a hand over her mouth.

Zirdam gave the blue haired woman one last look, before he marched off to give out orders to gather any salvageable items from the smashed remains of the ruined supply wagons and the fallen Frost Giants.

Grolir and Nimble remained for a few moments before following the general, the two were visibly unsure of what to make of Jinx, and the violet armored knights followed suit. Gareth noticed Arche staring at the two of them, and trudged off toward the gathering adventurers and workers.

When they were gone and at a safe distance, Gareth removed his hand from Jinx's mouth, and wiped off her saliva, courtesy of her licking his palm.

"Jinx, just how far is Damien and his base?" the bard asked.

"Not far," she shrugged. "Don't worry blondie, we'll be with boss-man in no time. We just gotta go up and up, and I'll leave you and your sausage party be."

Kane let out a snicker, which he poorly hid behind his hand.

After a long half hour of gathering their supplies and burying their dead in makeshift graves, the expedition was on the move once more, this time led by a blue haired lunatic named Jinx.

* * *

**(Back to the Present)**

"Come on, shoot faster! Just a little bit of energy, yeah!

I wanna try something fun right now. I guess some people are gonna die right now!

Let's blow this city to ashes, and see what Pow-Pow thinks!"

Most of the adventurers were keeping a good distance away from the mad woman, who was currently singing a rather demented song about what they assumed was her favorite hobby. Nimble in particular was glaring at the back of her head, his hand always close to his weapon in case she suddenly turned on them.

Zirdam and Grolir were stone faced and silent as they trotted a short distance behind the singing lunatic. Gareth silently hoped that Jinx would stop singing. If there weren't any Frost Giants or any other monster close by, there's bound to be now, drawn by her loud, energetic singing which echoed through off the cliffs around them, cutting the grim silence of earlier to ribbons.

Jinx suddenly stopped midsong and mid step. Nimble raised a fist and the general and the rest of the expedition froze, wondering what was going on.

"..."

"..."

"No way for me, a lady stuck in waiting,

I'd rather battle fire-breathing dragons.

I knew I could prove that a girl could be a Knight,

Though my friends all laughed at me,

But…

I wouldn't be discouraged and trained in secret.

Then a dragon pinched the Royal Prince

And everyone was freaking.

So I went alone to the dragon's home,

To slay the dragon~"

Gareth had to stop a massive facepalm as Jinx suddenly began to sing another song, which he found rather ironic and insensitive, given the situation. The blue haired lunatic continued to skip onward, belting out bar after bar of whatever song came to mind, and Nimble motioned the expedition forward. The knights, adventurers, and workers proceeded slowly, keeping a bit of distance between them and Jinx, in case her singing attracted any monsters.

As the bard began pondering what lay at the end of the trail Jinx was leading them, he noticed a golden haired shape appear in the corner of his vision.

"Miss Arche," Gareth greeted without looking at the young blond worker. "What can I do for you?"

"First of all, don't call me 'Miss,'" the young worker told him, sounding almost offended. "Second, I wanted to ask you how you know that strange woman."

He turned his head towards Arche. This was probably the closest he's gotten to the young Worker, and looking at her, the bard's mind sort of wandered.

The girl looked to be in her teens, though Gareth wasn't sure what age she was specifically. For a Worker, she looked cleaner and healthier than some of the others within the expedition. She wore loose maroon robes over a light red tunic and skirt. She held the reins to her horse in one gloved hand and her magic staff in the other. The young mage gave the bard a steely look with her icy blue eyes, which seem to possess a sense of maturity and knowledge that exceeded her age.

The bard couldn't help but wonder what occurred in her life to make her want to be a Worker. Being an Adventurer was rough, but from what he's heard, being a Worker was just as difficult, if not more so at times.

"Well?" Arche asked.

"Right, sorry" Gareth chuckled nervously. "Well, it's a long story, but suffice to say that my brother and I have encountered Jinx and her boss before."

The young worker cocked an eyebrow. "Really? What was she like?"

Gareth considered his words carefully, and replied, "More or less the same as she is now."

"Do you think she's going to kill us?"

"No, not unless she's provoked, and believe me, you don't want to provoke this one."

Arche smiled grimly. "I have no intention of doing so."

Not wanting to waste the opportunity to placate his boredom and speak to the otherwise cold and aloof young mage, Gareth fired a question her way.

"What brings you all the way out to the Azerlisia Mountains?"

"Money," Arche answered plainly.

"No way, me too!" Gareth said ecstatically, which caused the young mage to scowl at him. "Well, that, and I wanted to help some friends of mine." That caused the young mage to blink.

After a brief pause, Arche asked, "Who are your friends?"

"The White Clovers," the bard answered, jabbing a thumb back over his shoulder.

The young mage glanced back and nodded slowly. "They're a good party. I heard good things about them."

"Indeed they are. We would've declined the job, but, needing money and worrying about the wellbeing of our friends, my brother and I decided to tag along."

"You were?"

"Yep. I mean, I know that we're Platinum ranked, but we're still rather new to the whole Adventurer business. I felt that we needed time, but I couldn't bear the thought of leaving our friends to possibly die on some cold unforgiving mountain full of dragons and other monsters."

Arche gave the bard a funny look. "How...sentimental."

Gareth smiled. "What can I say, I'm a sentimental guy."

"Well, I hate to tell you this, but you've picked the wrong line of employment. Adventurers and Workers can't afford to be sentimental or let emotions dictate their actions. It could get you killed."

The bard shrugged. "If I die, I die. So long as I did my best and left the world a better place, I'll be happy."

Again, the young mage gave Gareth a funny look. "You are the strangest bard that I've met. At first the members of my party, myself included, thought you were just some rich boy who paid for that platinum rank or some lowly minstrel who just got lucky. But now..."

Gareth remembered the looks that Arche and her friends were giving him and Kane the previous night and the little wager they had going with the general. "Have you met many bards?"

"No," she admitted, "but I have heard that a majority of them aren't really good for any serious Adventurer jobs, save for maybe Freivalds of Silver Thread Bird. "

"Rumors are hardly credible sources of information," Gareth told her. "Besides, while those bards are questionable, I am the real deal."

Arche raised an eyebrow at him.

Gareth wagged a finger at her. "Never judge a book by its cover"

"Huh?"

"It's a saying from my country, which essentially means 'looks can be deceiving.' Underneath this stunningly handsome facade that was hand sculpted by the angels, lies a force to be reckoned with, a force that will cause the giants and dragons of these mountains to quake in fear!"

A smile tugged at the young mage's lips and her body began to tremble with suppressed laughter. It wasn't Gareth's intention, his words were sincere, but he simply smiled and let her have her fun. From how serious and grim she was, the bard sensed that deep down, Arche could use a good laugh once in a while.

That brief moment of cheer and laughter vanished as Jinx began belting out a new song, loudly and offkey.

"...You sure we can trust her?" Arche asked Gareth nervously, wincing at how loud the woman was singing. "I mean, I'm not a physician, but I'm pretty sure she's insane."

"That insane lady has ears, you know!" Jinx suddenly shouted, turning her head towards the magic caster, their eyes meeting, making her jump in surprise, "And yeah, I'm crazy - got a doctor's note."

She let out another giggle, before she continued leading them.

"Oh, and by the way, trust me or not...I really don't give a shit. This is just an order from the boss to take in any asshole that finds themself on this cold-ass mountain. Brr, I can use some hot chocolate right now!"

After that, everyone made sure to avoid talking about the blue-haired maniac any more, fearing a confrontation like that to happen. Thankfully, everyone seemed to get this unspoken rule, since nothing else happened, and Jinx eventually grew tired of singing.

As night drew closer and as the air grew colder, Gareth reflected on the one who they were on their way to meet, and, hopefully, gain shelter from.

Damien was a close friend of Gareth. The two of them met long ago, following an arduous and intense dungeon raid in Niflheim that the Emerald Legion had undertaken. Damien was in the area, gathering materials for a special item when he bumped into the exhausted but victorious guild. The two struck up a conversation and became fast friends. One of the things that endeared the bard to Damien was how he played Yggdrasil.

While the game was chock full of kill happy players, item hunters and extremely competitive dungeon raiders, Damien was one of the few who took a more constructive approach to Yggdrasil. He was a researcher of no small reputation, belonging to a guild devoted to ingenuity and innovation, known to all as the Artificer's Guild.

The Artificer's Guild was filled with talented creative types who had no desire for soul crushingly difficult dungeons or being frequently targeted by aggressive PKers. It was one of the few guilds in the game that welcomed all within their ranks. It was also one of the few guilds that was devoted to something other than dungeon raids and battle, like the guild World Searcher, who devoted themselves to exploring the vast, uncharted territories of the game, discovering every secret the game hid within its vast programming, and made the unknown known to all players for free.

Damien and his group started off as a small group of tinkerers, craftsmen, and blacksmiths, operating out of a small shop in Valhalla, one of the few areas in Yggdrasil where players of all stripes could interact on neutral grounds. Within the span of a few years, their numbers swelled, and they moved into a heavily fortified base in Muspelheim, from which they experimented and crafted all sorts of items. These items would be sold or bartered for gold or for materials of equal value. It was a fairly lucrative business, and there were some who tried to raid their base, but those typically ended in disaster. Not a smart idea, trying to rob or invade the mountain fortress of a bunch of magical eggheads who invented all sorts of dangerous items and traps. It's an especially unwise idea to try robbing a guild that was said to have dabbled in modding, and, allegedly, had one of Yggdrasil's programmers in their roster.

Gareth and various members of the Emerald Legion were beneficiaries of the Artificers creations, which was how he and Damien met for the second time. The two had a lengthy discussion on weapons and possible items that could be crafted from certain materials. One thing led to another and the two ended up working together on crafting a very potent suit of armor for one of Damien's friends, which he used in the tournament on Midgard. He didn't win, but it certainly helped him last longer than his opponent.

The bard remembered seeing Jinx lurking about in the cavernous guild halls. She'd spout off some randomly generated voice clips and lines, and do some crazy stuff after the manner of the classic video game character she was based on, but not much else. Gareth did see her in action once during an ambush on the guild, and he wasn't lying to Arche when he warned her not to antagonize her. Jinx was fast, and packed some heavy firepower.

Although the two players were close friends, the two gradually drifted apart. They grew busy with their respective guilds, and with the bard's falling out with his former comrades, the two lost touch.

Until now.

Jinx and the expedition emerged from the pass and found themselves in a box canyon. The way ahead and all around them were nothing but solid walls of rock and ice. A frozen stream of silvery ice scared the towering grey cliff before them. In the growing darkness, the rock face looked eerily like a face.

Jinx stopped and twirled about to face the general and the expedition.

"Here we are!" the blue haired lunatic announced.

"Here where?" Nimble asked, his voice heavy with suspicion and unease.

CHINK! CHINK! CHINK!

Almost as if on cue, large beams of light shined onto the group, blinding those unfortunate enough to have stared in the direction of the piercing, bright lights. Gareth blinked the spots out of his eyes as he tried to figure out what was going on.

["HALT!"] A loud voice boomed from the direction of the lights. ["WHO GOES THERE?!"]

"It's them, boss-man!" Jinx cheerfully waved. "It's those poor saps that I was talking about!"

Through the blinding light, shapes moved and sounds echoed until the expedition was ringed by humanoid silhouettes, leveling something at them.

Gasps erupted from their group as they realized that they were surrounded.

"What in the name of the gods are those things?" some of the workers gasped. "Golems?"

Gareth and Kane looked around them. Gareth shielded his eyes with one hand and focused on one of the silhouettes. He immediately recognized the beings that surrounded them. Clockwork men - or more appropriately, Clockwork Sentinels, - had surrounded their large group. Made of metal and porcelain armor, they were just as he remembered them - tall, imposing, and creepy as hell. While these models of the clockwork men had been upgraded since he had last seen them, he saw that they still had the large glass lense that served as their singular eye, with their creepy, never changing smile made of porcelain lying just below the mechanical camera.

All of them had four arms, with some of them having almost just blades for arms. The others had hands, which either carried blades, or they carried guns.

Yes, guns. As it would turn out, the Artificer's Guild was the reason why Yggdrasil eventually allowed firearms into their game, despite it basically breaking the whole fantasy genre vibe the game initially prided itself into having. After a month of trials and errors, they eventually "created" gunpowder and other magic based variants, which quickly escalated into the first firearm.

The developers of Yggdrasil made a big deal out of this, since again, this pretty much disrupted the whole fantasy theme Yggdrasil was all about. However, the players were pretty interested in the idea of firearms potentially becoming a part of the game, so they reluctantly let it slide. In a matter of weeks, the developers changed their tune, praising player ingenuity and attributing the weapon's inclusion into the game to Yggdrasil's customizability and versatility.

Firearms quickly became a hotly sought after item. However, developing firearms in a fantasy-themed video game turned out to be much more difficult than expected, so people eventually lost interest in it. As quickly as it gained popularity, guns lost it. Before long, only the most dedicated players even bothered to try and craft such weapons.

"What is this?!" General Zirdam demanded Jinx, a dangerous scowl on his face.

"Treachery!" Nimble cried, drawing his blade. "We must retreat!"

BANG!

Before the Imperial Knight could react, a bullet zipped past his cheek, grazing him and crashing into the snow, causing the snow to hiss and produce a thin strand of steam. Nimble froze, and touched his cheek where the bullet had left a noticeable bleeding cut.

["THAT WAS A WARNING!"] the voice warned, sounding like thunder. ["NEXT ONE WILL BE FATAL! IDENTIFY YOURSELVES, NOW!"]

Beside Gareth, Arche grew very pale and was trying in vain to think of a way to escape, but nothing came. They were trapped.

"I am General Zirdam Ginostus, High Commander of the armies of the Baharuth Empire," the general declared solemnly and without a trace of fear. "We've come seeking shelter from the cold and monsters that dwell in these mountains. Your...subordinate promised that you could help us."

There was a pause.

["I DON'T RECALL MAKING SUCH A PROMISE."] the voice boomed. ["FOR ALL I KNOW, YOU COULD BE SPIES OR ASSASSINS THAT HAVE BEEN SENT TO KILL ME!']

"Oh yeah, come to think of it, I actually don't remember promising them safety." Jinx scratched her head sheepishly.

Nimble gritted his teeth and looked ready to explode, but the Imperial Knight could do nothing but wait and hope for an opening.

"Oh come on!" Kane complained loudly "Who would ever want to kill you, you friggin' mega nerd!"

A stillness fell on everyone at that moment as the blinding lights shifted slightly and landed on the vampire. Those closest to him scattered and gave him room, hoping to not get struck down by the voice and his strange weapon.

["...WHAT DID YOU SAY!?"] the voice demanded, sounding both surprised and a little offended.

"I said who would ever want to kill you?" Kane repeated. "I mean, I can provide a list of people who'd want to off Gareth and myself, but you? Unless Honeybee is here as well, there just isn't anybody else in this godforsaken world who would want to kill you. You're just a shut-in NEET with a fixation for tinker toys and tomboys. Come on, D. Drop the act and let us in before I rip a hole in something!"

There was silence for a long moment. Arche gripped her staff tightly and the rest of the Adventurers and Workers stood at the ready in case a battle started. Finally, the voice spoke.

["HOLD ON A SECOND."]

More silence followed as the besieged expedition waited, sweating from the intense heat of the lights and the growing tension. The soft crunch of snow could be heard growing louder as two shapes appeared before them.

One was a tall, pale woman with long blue-black hair, clad in a black and purple dress, which generously displayed her curves and smooth skin. Atop her head was a dark purple top hat. Cradled in her arms was a bronze steampunk looking sniper rifle. The woman studied the ragged Adventurers and Workers that stood before her like a wolf and her prey.

The second was a raven haired man wearing a heavy fur cloak, leather gloves, and dark goggles with a dozen or so different lenses attached to it with tiny strands of brass, making him look like a steampunk explorer or scientist. The two paused a short distance away from Zirdam's expedition.

Nimble and the rest of Zirdam's entourage kept close to the general, but neither the unknown man or woman were interested in them. The attention was focused on Kane, who stepped forward from among the freezing crowd. Gareth hopped off his horse and followed his brother.

The two brothers approached the strangers, stopping when they were only a few feet from them.

Gareth and Kane stood side by side before the raven haired man and his companion. Kane looked annoyed while Gareth was rather nervous. He wasn't certain how things were going to play out. He tried his other senses to get an idea of what this guy was feeling or thinking but it was all murky and hard to read. The bard kept his hand at his side and hoped he was quick on the draw should things go sideways.

After a tense, silent moment, the raven haired man lifted his goggles to his brow and stared at the brothers with wide, curious green orbs.

"Gareth?" the man breathed. He looked at Kane. "Kane? H-how...how are you guys here?"

"You tell us." the vampire grunted.

"Is...is this a trick?" Panic entered the man's voice. "Are you reading my mind? Are you shapeshifters using my memories against me?"

"It's us, dipstick. The real deal."

"How do I know that you are what you say you are?"

"You don't," Kane admitted. "We _could _be imposters and you could probably kill us. But then again, we might be real. We could try and convince you but, in the end, I don't think there's really anything we could say that would possibly convince you."

The raven haired man frowned. "Good point."

"We're real, Damien," the bard spoke up. "Look, all that we know is this: We logged into Yggdrasil on the night of the shut down to say goodbye to the old game and then...here we are."

Damien stared at the bard, his face not betraying anything.

"That was a week and a half ago," Gareth continued "Ever since then, we've been hiding out at the Bronze Ox, you remember it? The little inn Kane and I won on that quest? Anyway, we decided to go exploring and gathered some information on this new world. As you can see, we've been having some success so far."

The raven haired Artificer nodded slowly, seemingly accepting the bard's words. After a length of silence, Damien raised a hand and made a gesture.

A loud click sounded and the lights went out, plunging the canyon in darkness. The Adventurers and Workers behind them chattered nervously but remained still, still seeing spots from the sudden and blinding they received from the lights.

Gareth's eyes recovered instantly and he saw a trio of enormous bronze searchlights positioned above them on the cliff, partially hidden by a snowbank.

"We better get inside," Damien said, adjusting the goggles on his forehead. "Direwolves are very active at this time of night."

The bard nodded and gestured to the general, indicating that everything was good now.

Damien snapped his fingers and a dark seam appeared in the cliff behind him, causing clumps of ice and snow to fall. The seam split open, swinging outward like a door, revealing a wide, round opening. A cloud of steam and a gust of warm air rolled forth from the dark interior, washing over the freezing travelers and the three players.

"Caitlyn, show them inside please" Damien said to the rifle wielding woman beside him.

The woman in purple and black nodded and sauntered toward the newly revealed entrance. After some convincing, Kane led the cold and tired force after the sniper.

"Aw," Jinx pouted as the Adventurers and Workers trudged by. "But I wanted to blow their brains out!"

"Ooh, kinky," Kane quipped as he passed her by.

Jinx scowled. "Hey, that's my line!"

Gareth exhaled and followed Damien and the others inside.

* * *

Daedalus's Forge was just as Gareth remembered it. The spacious, vaulted entrance hall was as it was all those years ago. Thick stone pillars lined the hall, leading toward an immense set of doors of wood and metal. On either side of the bard were doors that lead to different areas within the Forge: blacksmith shops, alchemy labs, training grounds, and dungeons.

The Adventurers and Workers murmured in awe at the size of the chamber, some theorizing that they were in a dwarven outpost of sorts. Gareth noticed Grolir's awe and puzzlement as he inspected the bare pillars and walls, as if he were trying to ascertain who or what may have shaped this hall.

A deep rumble echoed through the hall as the immense stone gates closed behind Damien, Jinx, and Caitlyn. The raven haired Artificer shed his fur cloak and handed it off to a nearby Clockwork Sentinel, which scuttled off and vanished through a nearby hole in the wall.

Without warning, the walls began to open up, countless hexagonal holes appearing out of nowhere. Out poured out more Clockwork Sentinels like a swarm of mechanical bees, all holding either weapons, boxes, or other supplies.

"They shall take you to the infirmary or to the dining hall, depending on whatever you need." Damien explained. "Please make yourselves at home. Fair warning: Steal anything, and we'll know. We have eyes everywhere. If you need anything, just ask one of the Sentinels, and help will be on the way."

Some of the seedier looking Workers gulped at this, looking at the mechanical men, who looked at them with suspicion with their singular, unblinking eyes. Despite the eerie grin that was frozen onto their porcelain faces, they seemed to be glaring at them, daring them to violate the sanctity of their creator's home.

"You two, come with." Damien beckoned at Gareth and Kane. "We have...much to discuss."

"Do you need us to escort you, sir?" An armored woman walked up to the group, another one of the Artificer's Guild's guardian NPCs.

Both of the brothers recognized that this woman was the NPC named Vi. The pink haired woman was the muscle of the guild hall's security. The most notable thing about this woman was not the fact that she was the only one that wore armor that almost covered her entire body, nor was it the fact that it looked like she wore a tutu under all that armor.

No, it was her large, metal gauntlets, the eight knuckles glowing hot red. Its hands were large enough to envelope and crush a human head, it was wider than her body, and looked heavy to lift individually with both arms, and yet, this lady wore it on her like it was an ordinary pair of gloves.

"No, it'll be alright, Vi. These are...old colleagues, if I must say so. Surely you must remember them, yes?"

The woman nodded, examining the two brothers' faces.

"I do," Vi said, bowing slightly, "Welcome back to Daedalus's Forge, sirs."

Gareth tipped his feathered cap and Kane gave a nod.

"This way," Damien said, gesturing toward a door at the distant corner of the entrance hall.

As they made their way toward the door, General Zirdam, Nimble, Grolir, Randor, and Lydia moved to follow, but the Sentinels blocked their paths. Their glassy eyes glinting as they brandished their bladed weapons.

Nimble attempted to draw his sword, but felt something hard and heavy land on his shoulder. Turning around, his eyes widened as he realized that it was the woman Vi. Her mighty gauntlet was resting on his shoulder, and he knew that if she so wished, a single pinch from that gauntlet would be all it took to crush it beyond repair, even with his armor.

"Gareth!" The general growled.

"Get out of my way you blasted contraptions!" Randor snarled as he brandished his axe. "Or I shall reduce you to scrap!"

The bard blinked and suddenly felt like an idiot. If he was trying to keep a low profile, this was no way to do it. After all, this whole exchange looked incredibly suspicious, with Damien seemingly turning from a stranger to an old colleague being odd without context. There was also the matter of his companions. Although they claimed to be unbothered by the fatigue and cold, he had to make sure that they were rested, and prepared for what tomorrow may bring. He also needed to nip any uncomfortable questions in the bud before they evolve into a serious problem.

"General, Randor, Lydia, everyone, please go with them," Gareth told the general calmly, using his bardic voice. "Eat, rest, and regain your strength. I assure you that everything will be alright. We will return soon. When everyone is rested, you will join in on the conversation. You have my word."

The general scowled at the bard for an uncomfortable length. Gradually, the old man's craggy features softened and he nodded, acquiescing. Randor lowered his axe and sniffed. Lydia frowned, but nodded. Satisfied, Zirdam, Nimble and the rest fell in with the rest of the ragged expedition as they were herded out of the entrance hall by Vi and her group of Sentinels.

"Shall we?" Damien asked patiently.

"Lets," Kane nodded.

The three players left the entrance hall, escorted by a trio of Sentinels.

* * *

The three players walked in awkward silence. They passed by more mechanical guards patrolling the corridors and a series of identical doors leading deeper into the guild base. Gareth expected Damien to open one of them, but they just passed by them all.

After what seemed like forever, he finally stopped at a large, ornate door that read, "Atelier 12 - Damien Walker."

The three Sentinels took up positions within the hall, with their backs toward the players and the door, as if they were expecting a threat to come racing after them down the corridor.

Damien turned his head back to smirk at them.

"You know, you guys should feel blessed. You guys are going to be the first ones that's not a part of this guild to witness this."

Before the two could ask what 'this' was, the genius inventor took out a ring of keys. There were many golden and silver keys in the ring, but he plucked out one of the dozen, before unlocking the door. Stepping inside, it revealed what looked to be a small museum, filled with beautiful pottery, paintings, sculptures, and other types of work that were neatly presented.

"Amazing," Gareth breathed. He noticed how some of the artworks were pieces of the mechanical men. Lifeless, and yet perfectly made, it felt like if he could learn how to put the glassed pieces together, maybe he would be able to make his own Clockwork Sentinel.

"Thank you," Damien smiled. "But that's not the best part."

He then walked up to a painting of a bowl full of peach seeds. Digging his fingers behind the painting and its frame, it swung open like a door, revealing a set of switches. His fingers traveled over one of them, and pulled it down.

Suddenly, the room began to shake a little. Before the two could ask what was going on, the room began to disassemble. Walls, floors, art works, they all began to move away, and they realized that it was all attached to machinery.

As bits of the floor began to move away, he realized that there were certain sections of the floor that remained unchanged, to which he quickly moved towards those particular spots. Watching the machines behind the walls change the area around him, he was vaguely reminded of a certain classic horror movie series, noting how the entire room seemed to transform by itself like the film's iconic puzzle box, the Lament Configuration.

These thoughts were interrupted when the floor began to descend, hydraulics humming as they went down into darkness. Looking above him, he realized that a floor had just replaced the one above them, and he realized that this complex machinery had just replaced the room that it took them away from.

The floor finally stopped descending, and the lights turned on. He blinked, and he realized that he must be looking at Damien's work room - or rather, his atelier.

"Welcome to my atelier," Damien smiled, even as the room continued to assemble itself. "It's where miracles are made."

In contrast to the museum that they had just witnessed, this room was much simpler, cozier even. A work table was placed near the center of the room, with an elaborate throne-like chair sitting behind it. The walls were decorated with only a few paintings, and occasionally miscellaneous items like weapons and a mirror.

Strewn about the work table were old books and rough sketches of various items and contraptions that were planned to be made at some undisclosed time. Behind the throne-like chair and work table were a couple of tall, fully stocked bookshelves, bearing tomes of various sizes, ages and makes.

Off to one side was a wide fireplace, in which crackled a warm golden flame, though the room's primary source of illumination were a dozen or so crystal globes that glowed brightly. Over the fireplace sat an ornate clock, which ticked away softly and rhythmically.

Kane whistled appreciatively. "Nice man cave" the vampire complimented.

"Thanks," Damien said bashfully. "It's my home away from home… literally, now that I think about it." He shook his head and gestured to some cushioned stools closeby. "Pull up a seat and let's talk."

Gareth and Kane each pulled up a stool toward the central work table as Damien plopped into the throne-like chair. Once everyone was seated and comfortable, the three spoke freely and openly.

An unknown amount of time drifted by as the three shared tales of what they've been up to in the last few years. Last time Damien and Gareth had spoken, Damien was still guildmaster and was overseeing some major commissioned projects for some clients that were locked in the midst of a big guild war. The bard also remembered that the chief Artificer of the guild was also starting a new engineering job IRL. Fortunately, it seemed that Damien had some successes at his job IRL, and that the Artificer's Guild had continued to rake in the gold, and even endured another raid attempt.

What had happened to everyone else on Yggdrasil happened to Damien's guild. People gradually moved on from the guild and from the game as well. Some of the senior members and the old faithful continued to show up, but even they eventually stopped coming, due to personal reasons or because they had already said their goodbyes. The numbers dwindled until eventually, Damien was all that remained. The chief Artificer nearly gave up on Yggdrasil for good weeks before the shutdown. Life was going good for him, and there was a new game that tickled his fancy. However, due to how much love and effort he poured into the old game, Damien decided to pay Yggdrasil one last visit before it was gone forever.

The raven-haired artificer visited various spots in the old guild base, cleaning up and making some last minute adjustments before the end came. For some reason, Damien wanted his old virtual home to meet its end looking its best. The end finally came...but not really. Damien was just as freaked out by the change as Gareth and Kane, though curiosity and wonder quickly overtook that fear and discomfort. He began tinkering with his now real automatons, and playing around with his now real weaponry. Eventually, he got bored and decided to go exploring.

"And that was when I ran into the locals," Damien explained, drumming his fingers on his chair's armrest. "The Frost Giants."

"Oh, and how did that go?" Kane asked, leaning forward with anticipation.

Damien winced. "About as well as your encounter with them."

"That bad, huh?" Gareth asked with a smile.

"Worse, actually. I introduced myself to them and tried communicating with them, but they smashed up my Sentinels and chased me around and tried to kill me!"

"Yeesh," the bard grimaced. "Then what happened?"

"Caitlyn took care of them."

"Which one's Caitlyn?" Kane asked with a frown.

"The one with the sniper rifle and the top hat," Gareth provided.

The vampire thought for a moment and then he eventually got it. "Oh yeah. She's hot."

"Indeed she is," Damien said wistfully.

The raven haired artificer sighed and tapped his armrest. "So, what about you two? You said you went exploring?"

"Saved a girl and some adventurers from some bandits, then we met some rapey soldiers and Gareth drove their leader insane," Kane explained, counting off their adventures on one hand "Fought some assholes and joined the Adventurers Guild, joined this little Frost Dragon hunt and got ambushed by Frost Giants. Jinx dropped in, and here we are."

Damien blinked, and then smiled. "I missed your way with words, Kane."

"Back at you, buddy." Kane smiled. "God, it's good to find a familiar face."

Gareth snorted. A thought then occurred to him.

"Damien, do you know if anyone else signed on to Yggdrasil before or during the shut down?"

The former guildmaster's brow furrowed. He pondered the bard's words for a few long moments before answering. "I...don't think so. I honestly thought that I was the only one. Muspelheim was completely dead when I arrived, and I mean _dead_. There was no one in sight. Voice chat and everything else was empty. Even Surtur's dungeon was barren, and that place usually has somebody lurking around."

Gareth stroked his chin thoughtfully. Damien was right. Yggdrasil was vast, but one could always find other players or hear of something going on, but when the bard had signed on for the shut down, everything was dead silent. It was almost as if he were stepping into a world where all intelligent life had moved on. It was very eerie.

"And do you think…" the bard began but trailed off.

"And do I think that we weren't the only ones to have signed on?" Damien finished Gareth's question.

The bard nodded.

The former guildmaster shrugged. "I can't say for sure, but in my personal opinion...no. I don't think we were the only ones on Yggdrasil when it went down."

"Seriously?" Kane asked.

"I mean, think about. Yggdrasil was one of the biggest video games in modern history. It's genre defying. The customizability, the technology, the challenges, everything about it was unparalleled. Besides, Yggdrasil was much better than the shitty reality that we went back to when we logged out, even if everything was just numbers and code. We made friends, had fun with family, and some of us even found love online. To some it was just a game, but to a lot of people it became our second life. Hell, it was _better_ than real life. People were really upset when the game's termination was announced. You should've seen the threads and message boards. I mean, surely we couldn't have been the only ones that stuck around in that sinking ship."

The two brothers couldn't help but agree with his logic. Sure, Yggdrasil was losing popularity, but it couldn't have been that bad to where it was time for them to pull the plug. And besides, there were still some loyal players left in the game, as evident by how there was even a petition even started to try to keep the game alive, albeit to no avail.

Kane exhaled slowly. "So, what do we do?" he asked.

"What?" Damien asked, raising an eyebrow.

'What do we do now? If we're not the only ones here, shouldn't we, I don't know, try and see if any other players showed up when the game went offline?"

"How do you suppose we do that?"

"I don't know, you're the genius, genius! You figure it out."

Damien scratched his head "I-I don't even know where to begin! It's not like we can set off an emergency flare or do smoke signals."

"Have you tried **[Message]**?"

The artificer nodded "Yes, I tried everyone on my friends list. I tried the admins, the mods, even those Swedish guys from the Vanaheim raid. I tried _literally_ everyone I could think of and got squat."

"Have you tried us?" Gareth asked.

Damien paused. His eyes widened. "Yes...Yes I did try you, and got nothing."

"Are we still on your friends list?"

"Of course!"

Damien flicked his wrist, and a holographic menu appeared in front of him, and the two brothers circled the work desk and peered over Damien's shoulder. Right in the middle of a lengthy list of usernames were Gareth and Kane's names.

The brothers both frowned.

"Weird," Kane murmured. "Try calling us."

Damien tried each of the brothers, and got nothing. The artificer tried a couple more times, and got the same result. The vampire and the angel both tried calling Damien, but both ended up with nothing.

"Curiouser and curiouser," Gareth murmured.

"You think our signal's getting blocked?" Kane asked.

Damien gave him a funny look. "Our signal? What do you think we are, radios?

"I don't know, but we should be able to connect with one another."

The raven haired artificer rubbed his eyes. "Great, another thing to add to the growing list of weird things to sort out."

"We'll worry about that later," Gareth said, leaning against the work table. "There's still so much we don't know. It'll take time, but I'm certain that if we put our heads together, we can deal with this stuff, one problem at a time."

Kane and Damien nodded in agreement.

"For now, I think we should focus on the biggest problem we're currently facing: the Frost Giants and the gaggle of Adventurers and Workers who are currently licking their wounds."

"Oh yeah," Kane said slowly, having almost forgotten about them.

"Alright," Damien nodded "Where do we begin? What problems are we dealing with here?"

"For starters, I don't think the good general is being entirely honest with everyone," Gareth said.

Kane nodded in agreement "Yeah, I've been getting that vibe for a while. I mean, I don't think he's lying to us when he said that he's here to kill dragons, but it kinda felt like there was something he left out."

"Right, which means that if we want to get these guys home alive and in one piece, we need to know what the general's true objective is and, hopefully, fulfill it. The sooner we get it done, the sooner everyone goes home."

Damien sat up as his expression began to fill with wonder and excitement. "Does that mean that you'll be using your **[Command]** ability? Now that you're a real bard, you should be able to command people to do your bidding."

Gareth nodded hesitantly. "Yes but I don't feel all too comfortable forcing people to do things. However, I think I can get him to loosen up enough to talk."

* * *

A few minutes after their private meeting, Gareth, Kane and Damien arrived at the dining hall. The dining hall was a long, spacious chamber with a vaulted ceiling. The hall was filled with long wooden tables and benches. Scattered among the numerous tables and benches were the weary Adventurers and Workers of Zirdam's expedition. Some were eating and talking in hushed tones, others were resting their heads on the tables, trying to sleep and recuperate. Gareth spied Arche, who was sharing a distant corner table with the rest of her party, talking in low tones. The young mage noticed the bard and the other two players entered the dining hall and grew silent, worry flickered across her features.

Despite how filled the large dining hall was, a grim silence mostly filled the air, save for the hums of electricity, the ticks and tocks of the large clock that loomed above them (which also served as their main light source), the occasional, small chatter the expedition tried to start up time to time, and the hums and clicks of the Clockwork Sentinels, which served to watch over the men and women, occasionally getting them whatever they needed.

The bard looked away, and quickly located the general. The grizzled old warrior sat in a far corner, surrounded by his closest knights and soldiers, studying a yellowed old map that was laid out on the table before him. On either side of the general were Grolir and Nimble, who were studying a map and talking to their leader.

As the trio approached, Zirdam looked up and Nimble rose to his feet. Randor and Lydia appeared closeby, ready and waiting for whatever might happen.

Damien nodded at the general. "General, I believe it is time that we have a chat."

The old man's lips tightened into a line, but he nodded.

Damien and his Clockwork Sentinels lead the brothers, the general, Nimble, Grolir, Randor and Lydia to a sparsely furnished meeting room that has a large, round wooden table and a dozen ordinary looking chairs in the middle. Lining the walls of the room were bookshelves holding all manner of ancient looking books.

After some hesitation and some coaxing from Gareth, General Zirdam, Grolir and Nimble pulled up a seat at the table, as did the others. Once everyone was seated, the Clockwork Sentinels withdrew and took up positions around the room, and remained as still as statues.

Silence filled the meeting room as everyone waited for someone to begin speaking. Damien spoke first.

"General Zirdam," the raven haired artificer began, "I wish to extend a sincere apology to you and your men, for my subordinate's actions and for the misunderstanding that occurred outside."

"I accept," the general said "and to be honest, I can now see why you acted the way you did. These...golems and this place would attract all sorts of unwanted attention."

"Indeed. In the past, my comrades, my subordinates and myself have repelled all manner of attacks on our home by various unsavory people, all driven by greed. However, after talking things out with Mr. Gareth and Mr. Kane, I believe your intentions to be only… somewhat honest."

"What do you mean, 'only somewhat honest?'" Sir Nimble sniffed, almost offended.

"Not many people would venture this far or this high into a purportedly dangerous mountain range to simply hunt dragons" Damien replied in an even tone, "While it is true that there are dragons in this region, my scouts have reported that they are far more numerous in the more northern regions, many miles from here."

As Nimble seemed ready to argue against Damien, General Zirdam cut him off.

"And you would be right," the old warrior admitted with a mirthless smile "How astute of you, Mr…?"

"Damien," the artificer answered. "Just Damien."

Damien leaned forward and propped himself up with his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his interlaced fingers. "Let's get to the heart of the matter, shall we? What are you looking for, General?"

General Zirdam seemed very reluctant to answer but, unbeknownst to him and to his two companions, Gareth was subtly affecting his emotions via one of his bardic abilities: **[Soothe Emotions], **which allowed the bard to soothe and ease the tense emotions of his or her selected target. In this case, the bard focused on the general and his companions.

Grolir stroked his beard and glanced at the general, who glanced at his dwarven companion. The general's craggy features, while still composed, seemed to grow more relaxed and at ease. Eventually, Zirdam sighed and answered slowly.

"We are here to hunt dragons, that much is true. However, there are...additional goals to this mission."

"Which are, sir?" Kane asked, genuinely interested.

"One is to lend military aid to the dwarven clans of the Azerlisia Mountains," Grolir added, gruffly. The general looked at his friend in slight surprise, but nodded in agreement.

"Military aid?" Gareth asked. "Forgive me for asking but my brother and I, as well as the members of my party, are new to these lands."

"As am I," Damien added.

Grolir nodded "Aye, it's no problem lad. It's no secret neither, the sad state my people are in." A grim, sorrowful look formed on the ancient dwarf's bearded face. He took a long, shaky breath and elaborated.

"Centuries ago, the dwarves of the Azerlisia Mountains dwelt in peace. Our kingdom stretched from the northernmost reaches, into the Argland Council State, down past the Great Forest of Tob, near where E-Rantel currently lies. Presided over by the Runesmith King, going back countless generations to the founding of our kingdom and our kind, it was a golden age of prosperity and progress. Until, _they_ came…"

Grolir began to tremble with anger and sorrow. He clenched a meaty fist and managed to regain control of himself, otherwise the old dwarf would've attacked something or began shedding tears.

"The Evil Deities," General Zirdam said, helping his friend, "otherwise known as the Demon Gods. Beings of unspeakable evil and power, they ravaged these lands for gods know how long. Countless nations and kingdoms fell before them, human _and_ demi-human. No one was spared their wrath."

"Which is why one would be hard pressed to find a nation with a history dating back further than two hundered years." Sir Nimble added grimly.

Gareth frowned, and couldn't help but feel sympathy for Grolir. He could feel the rage, the anguish and sorrow radiating from the ancient dwarf like heat from the sun at noonday. The bard felt his eyes well up, tears threatening to fall like rain. He quickly rubbed his eyes with his sleeve.

"The Thirteen Heroes rose up against them and fought to end their senseless mayhem" Grolir continued, his voice tight. "Warriors, mages, and even craftsmen flocked to their banner, tired of being the prey of these...monsters and hoping to lend their skills to these legendary figures. Among them was one of our greatest runesmiths, the preeminent craftsman of the age, our king: Farbrek Irontooth. Armed with his faithful war hammer, forged by the greatest dwarven smiths of legend and empowered by mighty runes, our king helped in ending the lives of some of the worst among the Demon Gods."

"Sounds like a great king" Kane remarked sincerely.

"Aye, that he was…" Grolir smiled wanly. "But, the legend of Farbrek Irontooth is not a happy one, though many wish it were."

Grolir took a deep breath and continued his tale. "You see, though the Thirteen Heroes were the greatest of their age, defeating the Demon Gods was no small feat. They were numerous and very powerful. It took time and great pains to hunt down each of those bastards and to slay them. Once the fearsome heads of that awful hydra were severed, their followers and their minions would scatter and be easier to deal with. After most of the major Demon Gods were vanquished, there came a period of peace and healing."

"Most believed at the time that the Demon Gods were done for." Zirdam chimed in. "Most of the big shots were dead or sealed away, and their armies were on the run. For months, despite constant vigilance and thorough searches, there was no sign or clue that may have led to the remaining Demon Gods. After about a year or so, people began to believe that the war was won."

Grolir nodded. "Indeed. Homesick and weary of battle, Farbrek parted ways with the Thirteen Heroes and returned to Feo Berkana, his home and the seat of power for his kingdom. He was given a hero's welcome and it was well deserved."

"I'm sensing a 'but' coming," Kane murmured, though the ancient dwarf heard him, and acknowledged the vampire's word with another nod.

"Aye. He returned home victorious, a hero to all. _But,_ Farbrek's joy and his respite didn't last. A week after returning home...the Demon Gods attacked."

A grim silence filled the meeting chamber as Grolir's expression darkened. The old dwarf forced the remainder of his tale from his mouth as if he were spitting out a begrudged compliment to an enemy.

"Our people didn't stand a chance. They breached the capital's outer defenses and barriers and quickly overwhelmed the garrison guarding Feo Berkana. They tortured Farbrek and forced him to watch as they slaughtered his family and his people. Those bastards destroyed the royal archives and butchered the Runesmith's college, leaving nothing behind but corpses and ashes - a message to Farbrek's former companions, who arrived too late, that they were still there, and that the war was far from over."

Gareth winced. Grolir's story reminded the bard of a handful of different stories that he had read back home, stuff from classic fantasy tales. While he had been a fan of these tragic and epic sagas, hearing it with such genuine emotions in a world where magic and monsters were real, it struck Gareth deeply.

"It was because of those bastards that our kingdom fractured, and why the ancient art of Runecraft was nearly lost to history!" Grolir growled. "Though we lost our king and much of our former strength and glory, it was we who had the last laugh when the Thirteen Heroes, aided by the few surviving warriors and craftsmen of Feo Berkana, hunted the monsters responsible and avenged their fallen comrade."

The ancient dwarf was breathing heavily when he concluded the tale. His eyes shone with emotion as Grolir managed to calm himself. A moody silence filled the room and resided there, until Gareth spoke up.

"That was a very...moving story, but I must ask: what does this have to do with the expedition?"

"Everything," Grolir rumbled.

"Even though the Demon Gods have finally been defeated," General Zirdam explained, reclining in his chair, "the misfortunes of the Dwarf Kingdom had only just begun. With no royal family or king and with the royal capital a smoldering ruin, the kingdom limped on and tried to pick up the pieces. They tried to resettle and rebuild Feo Berkana but ran into a large, furry problem: the Quagoa."

"Quagoa?" Kane asked.

"Large, nasty mole-like beastmen. They live in the underground caverns and tunnels in these mountains. For eons they've kept to themselves and waged endless wars with the goblins, kobolds, and each other, at least until recently. They've begun to organize and rally under one leader."

Grolir nodded. "Aye. No longer bound by their ancient grudges and hatred of each other, they've turned their fury onto my people, and we have been fighting ever since, wrestling for control over these mountains. They took Feo Berkana and several of our other cities and strongholds. All that remains of our kingdom and our people is confined to a scattered handful of cities and forts here in the south."

"Damn," Kane murmured under his breath.

"To make matters worse," General Zirdam said, a deep scowl forming on his face. "There's the Frost Dragons. Though they're busy killing the Frost Giants, they're more than happy to go out of their way to kill dwarves. The Quagoa have a...let's say an agreement with the dragons."

"What sort of an agreement?" Damien asked, who was currently engrossed by the information that he was receiving. "Like a treaty?"

"Perhaps," General Zirdam shrugged "But what is known that the Quagoa Clan Lords have a little arraignment with the dragons to work together and share a living space, in exchange for gold."

Grolir snorted derisively "I wouldn't call it an arrangement, more like servitude. The Quagoa are fierce and strong, but they are nothing compared to Olasird'arc Haylilyal. They would never dare incur his wrath. As long as they pay tribute to him, they'll continue occupying Feo Berkana."

"And who is this...Olsen person?" Kane asked.

"Olasird'arc Haylilyal," Zirdam corrected the vampire. "He is the White Dragon Lord, at least that's what he calls himself. He's the biggest and meanest dragon that you can find in these mountains."

"He currently resides in what was once the royal palace in Feo Berkana," Grolir said bitterly, "lording himself over Frost Dragon and Quagoa alike, collecting his tribute in gold from his 'subjects.'"

"Right, so mole-people and dragons are bad, and you want us to kill them for you." Kane said, trying to sum up the dwarf and the general's lengthy tale.

Grolir's bushy eyebrows rose, before he let out a deep, wheezing laugh.

"If only it were that easy," General Zirdam sighed. "But I'm afraid that this dragon is far beyond even your skills. The Quagoa also have a natural ability that makes it damn difficult to kill them with swords and other normal weapons. Besides, they're far more numerous than our little band to deal with alone."

"Then _why_ are you here?" Damien asked, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "You said you wished to lend the dwarves military assistance?"

The general nodded. "The overall task of this expedition _was_ to hunt dragons, hopefully reduce their numbers, as advertised. You see, reports have been coming in about a massive Quagoa built up near the Fortress at the Great Rift, with dragons supposedly providing support. Our hope was to take some of the pressure off of the Dwarven Army."

"But what of your Empire?" Damien questioned "From what I've heard, the Dwarf Kingdom and your Empire are allies? A man of your position could easily raise a larger, more well equipped force to crush these invaders."

"Correct, though there a number of difficulties with that approach," Zirdam explained. "Firstly, the Azerlisia Mountains is the borderline between the Empire and the Re-Estize kingdom. Should we move a significant portion of our forces this far south and this close to Re-Estize, we'd risk open war. Secondly, most of our resources are currently tasked with maintaining the peace within our own borders and with aiding the Dragon Kingdom with their own beastmen problem. And thirdly, well, we can't move nearly as quickly with a force of that size. It'd be cheaper and quicker to use a force of Adventurers and Workers."

Damien nodded thoughtfully. "I see. You never hoped to fully crush the enemy, you hoped to be a buffer, a distraction even."

"But that's suicide," Gareth said, realizing the general's intention.

"Not if we're quick and careful," Zirdam grinned.

The bard stared at the general with awe.

"As to our secondary goal," Grolir said. "We had hoped that, well, fantasized really...we hoped to recover the war hammer of Farbrek Irontooth."

Gareth blinked and Damien cocked an eyebrow.

"Why? How?" Kane asked, trying to understand what the dwarf meant.

"The hammer of the Runesmith King is an ancient and powerful artifact," Grolir explained solemnly. "It is an heirloom of my people, and a priceless treasure of Runecraft. It was lost to us when Feo Berkana fell to the Demon Gods, but over the years, we have been able to piece together its resting place. It is where it always has been."

"Oh no…" the vampire groaned, realizing what was coming.

"In the royal treasure vault, located under the palace in Feo Berkana."

"What?" Sir Nimble exclaimed.

"He said it," Kane murmured under his breath.

"Oh boy," Damien said in surprise.

"I never knew this," the Imperial Knight said "Why was I never told!"

"If we did, you would've never come with us," Zirdam said plainly. "Even if his highness had ordered you, you would've thought up some excuse to get out of this trip - not that I'd blame you."

"I-I would never!" Nimble sputtered. "I'll gladly execute my emperor's orders to the letter, even unto death!"

"Right, of course you would," the general murmured, rolling his eyes.

Gareth was trying to process all that they had been told. While the expedition was to kill dragons, it seems that they were going to be used as cannon fodder and as a distraction for a bunch of violent mole creatures and Frost Dragons. There was also a missing treasure that was being guarded by an incredibly dangerous dragon that was feared by said murderous mole creatures and man eating dragons.

Despite this, the bard was still sort of glad that he came on this trip. There was a very likely chance that the White Clovers and the others would've been torn apart very quickly. On the other hand, Gareth was beginning to think that maybe they should've said no to this job.

"I know this is a lot to take in," Grolir said, "but our situation is dire. We have been losing ground and are on the brink of giving up. Although it was a desperate hope, recovering that war hammer would raise our spirits. Not only does it contain great power, but it is a symbol of what we had lost. With it, we might be able to hold on to hope for just a bit longer, and show that maybe we can regain all that we've lost."

General Zirdam nodded in agreement. "Indeed. I had hoped that with this expedition, we would be able to lend a hand, thus reinforcing the bonds between our two nations. We don't always get along, but we will stand shoulder to shoulder against monstrous threats, like in the days of the Demon Gods."

Gareth nodded. He saw the reasoning behind their aims, but he couldn't see how they could accomplish it with so small a force. The odds seemed to be against them, if anything. But maybe they could even the odds a little. He glanced at Damien and tilted his head.

The raven haired artificer noticed this and nodded. Damien looked at the general and at Grolir.

"Gentlemen, I can now see the reason and intentions behind your actions. They are noble, but badly miscalculated and doomed to fail."

Nimble scowled, but said nothing. The Imperial Knight secretly agreed that the intent was good, but they were ill equipped to see this through to the end.

"However," Damien continued, "I believe that you have a chance, with my help."

This caught their attention. General Zirdam sat up and Grolir's expression brightened.

"What?" the general asked, surprised.

"I believe that you may be able to succeed but only with my help" Damien said, a grin forming on his face. "If you wish to kill dragons, I believe that I have some toys that could help with that."

"Did someone say toys?" a woman's voice suddenly chirped. The general and the dwarf spun around, and saw that it was Jinx, who was laying on a bookshelf on her stomach like a cat.

"By the gods!" The dwarf yelped, putting his hand over his heart. "When did you get here?!"

"I've been here for a while, hun." Jinx giggled, falling off the bookshelf. She landed on her face, making the two of them wince, but she shot straight up, looking evidently unharmed. "If you're here to blow stuff up, count me in!"

"So, what do you say?" Damien asked.

The general and Grolir shared uncertain looks but eventually they nodded.

"Excellent!" the raven haired artificer smiled, rubbing his hands together.

"But if we hope to reinforce the Great Rift, we must hurry" Grolir warned. "Last I heard, the Quagoa may launch an attack in a week, but knowing them, it'll more likely be in three days."

"Let's get started then! Plenty to do and very little time."

General Zirdam and Grolir both quickly laid out large and detailed maps of the mountains on the table. With that, Damien, Gareth, Kane and the others got to work planning their next move.

* * *

**(a/n: Well, there you go. Don't worry, next chapter is going to be pretty action packed and will end this little arc in the mountains. I'm also going to provide a list of references at the end of these chapters to show the different little tidbits and song lyrics that have been used. Anyway, until next time. See you later!)**

**(List of References) **

(Chapter title): song by Iron & Wine

_Apocalypse Now!_: Mention of Colonel Kurtz

_Hellraiser_: Mention of the Lament Configuration

_Community_: Jinx's surprise appearance on the bookshelf.

_Danmachi_: Lydia was based off of Syr.

_Dishonored_: Clockwork Sentinels, (the entire guild itself = Jindosh's mansion)

_League of Legends_: Jinx (and her song), Vi, Caitlyn

_Jane and the Dragon_: (the 2nd song sung by Jinx)


	10. Steambreather

**(a/n: Here you go, a super long chapter to cap off this "arc." Enjoy! Big thanks to Lucius Walker for all his help!)**

* * *

Ch. 10: Steambreather

**(Somewhere underground, underneath the Azerlisia mountains)**

For the first time in many years, Commander Balmund Stonefist was unsettled. The veteran dwarven fort commander had weathered many daunting battles with his countless dwarven brethren, and had endured many sleepless nights as a leader in the Dwarven Army. However, there was something about this night that left him uneasy. Standing on the wall overlooking the gates and the precarious bridge that stretched across the bottomless expanse of the Great Rift, the seasoned commander with chestnut hair gazed off into the distance, towards the dark and silence.

For centuries this fortress had stood as the shield for the dwarven city of Feo Jera. Like a solid pillar of rock, the fortress stood at the edge of the gaping chasm and at the beginning of the bridge. Rising high into the ceiling of rock and earth that canopied the vast underground world, the fortress's smooth walls occasionally were broken up by dozens of arrow slits, parapets, and crenellated battlements. The upper most floors of the towering edifice resided on the surface, making it seem like a nearly identical but more diminutive version of the fortress below. This portion of the fort guarded against any enemy who hoped to attack from above. It also granted access to the surface for merchants, both human and dwarf.

Despite being in his armor, having ordered the fortress on full alert and the opposite side of the Great Rift being as silent as a grave, Balmund's worry only grew. For weeks, their scouts have been reporting of a build up in the Quagoa's forces close to the Great Rift, indicating the possibility of an attack. For weeks, the underground has seen many tremors, putting everyone on edge as they feared that the damned moles were coming to get them, and given their craftiness and eagerness for battle, the possibility for a sudden ambush from even above them was very possible.

In all his years of active service, Balmund has grown to fear and despise the Quagoa the most. The Frost Dragons usually kept to the surface and waged constant war with the Frost Giants. Kobolds ordinarily kept to themselves, while Goblins and other potential threats rarely ventured this deeply into the mountains or into their tunnels. The Quagoa, on the other hand, had always been a dire threat. They were aggressive, bloodthirsty and would love nothing more than to see every last dwarf slaughtered. In the wake of the Demon Gods and their rampage on Feo Berkana, the dwarves had struggled to maintain control over their lands and fend off the various predators that sought to take advantage of their weakened state. Unfortunately, the Quagoa were having the most success.

Most of the northern territories beyond the Great Rift were lost, with the people there enslaved and forced to labor for their barbarous captors and forced to reveal whatever secrets they had. Meanwhile, the Dwarven Army struggled to hold the line and deal with those who slipped through their defenses, like with Feo Raizo, where the inhabitants were forced to abandon the city due to a surprise appearance by the Quagoa in the area. What was once a kingdom composed of dozens of prosperous cities and countless towns and outposts, had been quickly reduced to a scattered alliance of a handful of outposts, fortresses, and three remaining cities. Hope was looking very slim for the dwarves, but that didn't mean that they were entirely without options. One of the Regency Council's members had sent a trusted advisor to gather whatever aid he could from their trading partner, the Baharuth Empire, specifically from a close friend to the leader of the dwarves, General Zirdam Ginostus.

Balmund smiled a little at the thought of the general. The two of them met when the general was a little younger and more energetic. He was accompanying his Emperor on a diplomatic mission. The general had saved both Balmund and the Emperor from a surprise attack and fought alongside the dwarves in the ensuing battle. Because of his valor, Balmund, along with the Regency Council, had named Zirdam a true friend to all dwarves, a rare honor bestowed on a human. The two corresponded over the years, but their respective posts have kept them quite busy. Now, the fort commander prayed that Grolir and the general would make it on time.

"Commander!" A voice spoke up from behind him.

Balmund turned and saw a blond dwarf with a well kept beard approach.

"What is it, Umren?" the commander asked.

"The last of our scouts has returned," the younger dwarf replied. "They report no change across the bridge. All is quiet."

"Hmm."

Balmund's brows furrowed and he nodded. When word of a possible Quagoa attack was coming, the commander had recalled all of his scouts and all those patrolling the opposite side of the Rift. When the attack came, they needed every dwarf to help throw the enemy back. They also didn't want to leave any of their soldiers out there in enemy territory. If they were discovered or captured…

The fort commander shivered, and turned his gaze out beyond the walls of the fortress once more. The bridge that connected the two sides of the Rift and the northern and southern half of the Azerlisia Mountain range, was narrow and ancient. It was nothing more than a solid length of stonework with metal guard rails with some faded relief's and carvings. Built long ago, it was once the main artery that allowed trade and travel to flow freely between the two halves of the dwarven kingdom. Now, this bridge was the only point from which the Quagoa could possibly hope to move into the south in force. The fortress that guarded the crossing was heavily fortified with masterful stonework and powerful runecraft enhancements carved into its foundations long ago. It had survived countless attempts and may continue to do so, though Balmund and other like minded dwarves were growing less confident in that belief with each year and each assault.

The bridge was the only way the Quagoa could use to reach the south. Should the fortress fall, then the remaining dwarf cities like Feo Jera would be exposed. The smart thing would be to destroy the bridge and spend their time and resources bolstering their defenses and coming up with a new way of dealing with the enemy as the Quagoa frantically sought a new way to travel south. Unfortunately, not everyone saw things his way. The majority of dwarves put a lot of faith in the fortress, likely due to its past successes, and have grown complacent. They also had faith that the Great Rift was impassable. It was far too long and wide to go around and no living creature, Dwarf or Quagoa, had ever reached the bottom of the chasm when they tried scaling down to cross over. There have been whispers as to what may lie at the bottom of the deep, dark abyss, but few dared to venture into the unknown, not after the mysterious disappearances of at least two survey expeditions sent down there centuries ago. It was because of these things that many in Feo Jera, even in the fortress itself, had grown too relaxed. Belmund worried that this attitude was going to get them killed one day. He hoped that he was never proven right.

The fortress was currently an island of illumination lit by dozens bonfires and hundreds of torches scattered about the fortress, allowing the dwarves some measure of sight in the dark and to, hopefully, disrupt the creatures' keen eyesight. The Quagoa dwelt in the eternal darkness of the underground for countless centuries, meaning that they could see clearly in the darkness and hated bright lights. From what he could see and hear, everything was as still as a summer's day. Then why did Balmund feel so uneasy?

"Sir?" Umren said.

"Hmm?"

"D-do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That."

Balmund frowned and listened in silence. For a few moments he heard nothing, but after waiting a bit longer and after straining his old ears, the fort commander could hear a distant rumbling sound echoing through the dark. The dwarf commander blinked in surprise and gazed out onto the bridge as it reached out into the dark expanse. He focused on the bridge as the sound grew closer and louder. The dwarf commander felt sweat beading up on his brow. He couldn't see anything. The bridge was empty. Unless…?

_Did the Quagoa learn to use magic somehow?_ Balmund thought, feeling a pit in his stomach. That was a frightening thought. Their foe was formidable in terms of martial strength. Should they suddenly gain access to magic, Balmund wasn't sure if they could stand up to such a thing. However, after a few agonizing moments of staring at the bridge, the fort commander realized that the sound wasn't coming from the bridge, or the other side of the Rift. It was coming from behind them, from their own side. Balmund and Umren walked to the other side of the fort, and watched with amazement as a large, drill-like object burst from the ground like a fish through water, a short distance from the fortress. The drill hummed loudly and whirred about, throwing up dust and rocks as the bulky, metal machine attached to it rumbled out of the freshly formed hole in the ground. The dwarven commander gazed in awe at the sight of the drill. The device reminded him of the type of drills that the miners in Feo Jera used as they mined for heatstones. Only, this device was enormous and looked like it was operating on its own, with no visible dwarf or human element to crank or direct it.

Before he could really process what he was witnessing, a shape emerged from the dark depths of the fresh hole created by the drill.

Balmund squinted, and saw the shape move toward the fort in the darkness. As it moved toward them, more shapes and silhouettes emerged and followed.

"C-Commander," Umren sputtered. "W-what is that?"

The seasoned dwarf wasn't certain at first, but as the first shape was close enough to the light produced by bonfires and torchlight of the fortress, Balmund couldn't help but grin.

"A friend," the commander answered simply. Ignoring Umren's confused expression, the commander of the fort bellowed for his men to open the rear gate, and stomped off to meet his old friend. A pair of guards followed him to the gate.

Once the heavy iron gates were unbarricaded and opened, there stood an elderly looking human with long grey hair. The old man wore a single eyepatch over one eye, and was dressed in a tunic of fine black, trimmed with gold. A flowing crimson cloak hung from his shoulders. In the flickering light of the torches near the gates, General Zirdam looked old, for a human. When the human's single eye landed on Balmund, a smile formed on the human's craggy face.

"Balmund!" the general greeted cheerfully. "Long time no see!"

"Zirdam, you look like death." Blamund chuckled. The two old friends embraced.

"It's good to see you," Zirdam said.

"And you as well," the commander replied. When they pulled away from their embrace, Balmund fixed the tall, skinny human with a serious look.

"What happened to Grolir? Is he hurt?"

"No, no, he's fine" Zirdam assured him. "He's on his way with the others."

"Others?" Balmund frowned. When realization hit the fort commander, the veteran dwarf's eyebrows shot up. "You brought help?"

"Yes… and then some," Zirdam answered cryptically as he scratched the back of his head.

Noting the confusion on the dwarf's face, the human general turned and gestured behind him. Balmund followed his gesture, and saw more humans arriving. At first glance, the dwarf knew at once that these humans weren't soldiers. The varying styles and quality of clothing and equipment made it clear that they were more likely Adventurers.

_A rather ragged bunch,_ Balmund thought to himself.

While there were some individuals of quality, or at least gave the appearance of such, there were others who looked like they'd collapse from hunger long before the Quagoa could show up. However, the seasoned commander knew not to judge based on appearances. If Zirdam brought them along, then these individuals might be strong enough to survive this ordeal.

"Is this all?" Balmund asked.

"Not exactly," Zirdam said slowly, "There's more, but…"

"But what?"

"It's the damnedest thing really," the human general smiled. "Along the way here, we ran into some trouble and gained some new allies."

The dwarf crossed his arms. "I see...and who are these allies?"

"Hello there!" a new chipper voice piped up.

Balmund looked and saw a thin, raven haired human emerge from the arriving crowd of adventurers. The human was oddly dressed, sporting a long brown coat, trousers and boots. The most curious part of his attire were his spectacles, which had a dozen other lenses attached to the main lenses by thin, bronze colored wire. The strange man extended a hand.

"I'm Damien!" He greeted the dwarf with a smile. "I'm here to help you solve your...mole problem."

The fort commander cocked an eyebrow. Damien didn't look like the type of person Balmund would expect to join Zirdam on a dangerous job like this, but the dwarf decided to hold his judgement.

"I am Commander Balmund Stonefist," the seasoned dwarf replied gruffly. "I am the leader of this garrison, and it is my responsibility to ensure that no Quagoa makes it across. My people have held this crossing for many centuries. What can you possibly offer us? Are you a mage perhaps?"

Damien's cheerful smile spread wider. Balmund noticed a glint in the human's eyes that made it seem like he was ecstatic about something.

"Even better," the raven haired man replied cryptically.

He looked at the general, who waved a hand at the stranger and Damien marched back into the darkness, rubbing his hands.

"You might want to prepare yourself," Zirdam warned his friend.

Balmund gave the general a funny look. Before he could ask his friend what he meant, a shrill whistle echoed through the dark beyond the fortress's range of illumination. The whistle echoed throughout the dark and cavernous underground, before it quickly faded away. A few moments passed until a faint rumbling sound could be heard. The rumbling gradually grew louder and closer. The ground beneath the fort commander's feet began to vibrate and rattle. The Adventurers and Workers scattered as a large, heavy shape rolled into the light.

The dwarf commander's eyes widened and he instinctively took a step back, reaching for his axe. His guards did likewise, but Balmund stopped them when he saw Zirdam and the other humans remaining still.

Leading the way was a group of large, metal vehicles that reminded the dwarf commander of a turtle. Heavily armored and slow moving, the machine came to a rumbling halt. A pair of long, cylindrical metal tubes turned and aimed up at the dark, distant ceiling of rock above. Looking beyond the large, heavily armored machines, Balmund's jaw dropped.

An army of bright, white orbs shone in the darkness, like fireflies in the night. Heavy, thunderous footsteps marched in unison towards them, their steps echoing in the underground world. His eyes widened as these "men" finally stepped out of the shadows.

He expected an army of humans, maybe even elves, to step out of the darkness, but instead, they were...golems? Yes, an army of metal men, with their mechanical innards twisting and turning like the innards of a clock. The white orbs revealed to be on their heads, and he suspected that they were their eyes. He looked at their porcelain smiles, frozen in place, to never change no matter the situation. One of them seemed to look at him, and he shivered.

Once he managed to stop looking at their blank, glowing eyes, he then noticed their weapons. He noticed how in their four, spindly arms, they either held razor sharp swords, or another type of weapon that he had never quite seen before.

Long and black, these new weapons were quite thin, and the only thing sharp about it was the small dagger that protruded underneath the small tube at the very beginning (which, when he thought about it, looked very similar to the ones attached to the metal, horseless carriages). Scratching his head, he wondered if they were merely spears, albeit very bizarre looking ones.

Behind them, in the bobbing orbs of light, Balmund made out the shapes of at least a dozen additional heavy armored machines.

A loud metallic click, followed by a thunk shook the dwarf commander from his thoughts. A hatch had opened at the top of the machine, near the large tubes, and out poked Damien's head. A cheerful, almost smug, smile etched on the man's pale features.

"Ta da~!" Damien pronounced loudly.

Balmund's mouth opened and closed wordlessly. He struggled to find words to express what he was feeling and thinking but nothing came.

"Don't mind him," a new voice spoke.

The dwarf commander looked and saw a tall, slender blond man poking his head from behind the machine. The man smiled warmly at Balmund, his blue eyes twinkling. "He likes to show off his toys, especially if it's to someone who hasn't seen them before."

Balmund gaped at the machine and the army of clockwork soldiers. He looked to Zirdam for help but the general smiled good naturedly and shrugged.

"Now then," another new voice grumbled.

An incredibly tall and pale human in all black emerged from among the crowd of Adventurers and Workers, looking on from the side as the soldiers and machinery emerged from the darkness. The man looked like a ghost to the dwarf, and something in his gut told him to stay away from him. The man brushed away his long, night black hair, and demanded, "Where are these mole people going to show up?"

Balmund looked to Zirdam, who just sighed.

"It's a long story" the general told his old friend "But all you need to know now is that we're here to help and our new friend Damien-"

"Hello!"

"Has brought along weapons that can help you."

Balmund looked around at the strange golems and the large machinery with a critical eye. He looked to Damien, who was still sticking out of the top hatch of the large machine. "Just what do you hope to accomplish with these-these things? Quagoa have a natural resistance to metal! Iron, steel, you name it! You try to stab them or use arrows, it'll bounce right off them!"

"So I've heard," Damien replied coolly. "I understand your hesitation, commander, but believe me when I say this: these Quagoa haven't had a run in with one of these." The bespectacled human patted the side of his large contraption, which seemed to be emitting a low, metallic pur.

The dwarven commander hesitated but, with the impending threat of the Quagoa and desperation, Balmund exhaled loudly and looked to Zirdam. "What do we need to do?"

* * *

In a matter of minutes, Balmund was back on the wall atop the front gate, looking out at the narrow bridge reaching out across the endless darkness. This time, he was accompanied by Zirdam, Grolir, Damien, the blond human, whose name was Gareth, and the long haired man, whose name was Kane. The fortress was now filled with the mechanical golems, who had taken up position at every arrow slit and battlement. The lower levels were occupied by Zirdam's Adventurers, Workers, knights and one of Damien's enormous machines with the long cylindrical barrels. It sat behind the front gates, its barrels aimed directly ahead, as if in anticipation of its fall.

Silence fell on the fortress as the garrison and its allies awaited the imminent Quagoa attack. For a long stretch of time, there was nothing but silence. In the distance, Balmund could hear the light jingle of armor here, a cough there. The dwarven warriors shifted uncomfortably, waiting for their foe to show themselves, as did their human comrades. Meanwhile, Damien's golems remained as still as statues.

After another stretch of nothing, Balmund cast a glance over to Damien. "Well, I suppose we won't be needing a demonstration" the dwarf said with a smile. "It seems that the Quagoa may have been scared off."

"No," Kane said in a low voice "They're out there."

The dwarf's head snapped to the tall man in black. "What?"

"They're out there, scuttling about." Kane was standing there, staring out into the endless dark.

"How many?" Gareth asked, as if this were a normal occurrence.

"A lot," Kane scrunched up his nose. "They smell like shit and rotting meat."

"That's them alright," Balmund murmured grimly.

"Here they come!" Kane hissed.

Everyone quickly went on the alert. Sir Nimble, Zirdam's bodyguard, drew his blade and searched the darkness in vain.

"Where are they?" he demanded. "I don't see them."

"There's a lot coming across the bridge, looks like they're going to rush the gates" Kane reported, his eyes fixed on a point in the dark and then drifting. "The others are crawling _under_ the bridge. They're going to try to use it for cover and to surprise us."

"Clever girls," Damien murmured, stroking his chin. He reached into his coat pocket, and withdrew a small brass cylinder with a button on its side. Balmund watched as the bespectacled human flicked one of the many lenses on his glasses over his main ones and lifted the cylinder, aiming it skyward. He pressed the button. Something solid shot forth from the cylinder and rose higher and higher, bringing behind it a white smoky trail, like a comet. It arced above the bridge and appeared ready to plummet into the bridge.

"Cover your eyes!" the bespectacled human bellowed.

Zirdam and his subordinates obeyed, and Balmund quickly ordered his men to do likewise. The dwarves shielded their eyes, just as a blinding white light burst into existence above the bridge. Through his closed eyes and fingers, Balmund could see light, and he could hear shrill, agonized screams.

In moments the light dimmed and Damien bellowed, "Now!"

The air became filled with loud cracks and pops. More screams followed. Balmund removed his hands from his eyes and blinked through the brilliant white light to see what was going on.

Thanks to the light, the dwarf commander got a good look at the scene, and was left speechless.

The bridge down below was full of Quagoa, who had already crossed the halfway point and nearly reached the front gates. However, the blinding light caused many of them to either freeze, or it caused them to stumble over the edge. The ones that didn't fall down were being felled by the Clockwork Sentinels, who were gunning down the moles with precision.

Even while watching the automatons in action, Balmund still couldn't believe his eyes.

Just before the battle, Damien gave them a brief explanation of what he brought onto the table. He explained to them the concept of his automatons, tanks and guns, and how despite their apparent immunity to metal, this new type of weapon could slow them down, even injure them, via pure firepower and the speed of the projectile weapons. If his people had an army of these machines, Balmund imagined that the war with the Quagoa would've been very different.

Although the Sentinels were able to significantly wound and kill a fair number of Quagoa on the bridge, more rushed into to fill the gaps. Although their comrades fell and suffered painful wounds, the Quagoa continued to struggle forward. Balmund begrudgingly admired the Quagoa for their tenacity and bravery in the face of death. In the light of the flare, the dwarf commander spied a large mole with crimson fur, who stood at the edge of the horde on the far side of the bridge, watching with two dark eyes that gleamed with malevolence and hatred.

Balmund scowled at the creature. He recognized that he was looking at one of the Clan Lord's numerous lieutenants. Flanking the crimson mole were another red furred Quagoa and one with blue fur. Those with uniquely colored fur were said to be stronger and more ferocious than the rest of their kind. Some were said to have leadership roles. The dwarf commander watched the enemy leaders, trying to guess what they were thinking. After a moment of seeming indecision, the red mole snarled and his subordinates nodded.

The blue and the red moles bounded forward on all fours, like hounds. They moved with astonishing speed, quickly reaching their pinned comrades and vaulting over them in a single leap. They landed and raced forward. Inspired by their leaders' progress, the beleaguered Quagoa surged onward.

Though the Sentinels continued raining bullets on the enemy, the beastmen pressed on. Several fell, earning grievous, bloody injuries. Those who fell were trampled or shoved off the edge of the bridge to clear a path for those still able to move. A few more were struck down but the blue Quagoa managed to reach the gate, which made Balmund reach for his axe.

Apparently, his efforts weren't needed.

FWOOM!

The Quagoa shrieked as a wave of fire fell from above and engulfed the creature. Blinded by the light of the Clockwork Firetrooper's flamethrower, it fell onto the ground, where it was consumed by the flames. Its comrades skidded to a halt and watched in astonishment as one of their leaders, one of their strongest warriors, writhe in agony as the flames consume his azure fur and his flesh sizzle.

The automaton responsible released the trigger, stopping the flow of gas from the large tank welded to its back, and watched with cold indifference as the creature shrieked and thrashed about beneath him, trying to put out the fire. The Flametrooper walked over the edge of the wall and landed beside the burning mole. Enraged and hungering for glory, the rest of the Quagoa surged forward to rip the clockwork automaton to pieces but the Flametrooper was quicker. With the squeeze of the trigger, the first wave of beastmen were bathed in bright orange flames, who were sent screaming into the abyss as they stumbled over the sides of the bridge. The other moles stumbled forward, hoping to avoid the flames, but were suddenly met by other Clockwork soldiers, who had poured out of the front gate, armed with wooden clubs and spears.

The air was filled with pained shrieks and brutal stabs and blows as the machines mercilessly attacked the moles. Some of the Clockwork warriors were driven back, but the brutal efficiency and speed of the defenders quickly overcame their foe. The bodies of the fallen moles were shoved over the edge. The damaged automatons retreated inside as fresh ones took their place. The blue Quagoa, who had valiantly braved the bullet storm and was the first to be engulfed in flames by the Flametrooper, had long since stopped shrieking and writhing. Although it stopped moving and screaming, Balmund could see that it was very much still alive. It's eyes looked up to the underground sky, filled with agony and rage. The Clockwork Firetrooper stepped forward. It pulled the trigger again, but instead of shooting flames, a stream of white foam shot forth from the nozzle of the weapon, which stopped the fire. After the flames were extinguished, the Clockwork Firetrooper backed off, allowing its brothers to deliver the final blow with their spears and clubs before carrying away the body, it's final use for the world to end up on Damien's dissection table.

Balmund's eyebrows rose and looked at Damien, who stood by his side.

"Very effective," the commander said.

"Indeed," Damien said with a smile "Though I have to say, these Quagoa and their resistance to metal. It's fascinating. I may have to improve the design of my Sentinels. Make them more effective."

Balmund nodded, agreeing with the bespectacled human's assessment. Although they weren't killing the enemy fast enough, they're certainly proving themselves to be very helpful with the defense of the fort.

Looking out on the battle once more, the Quagoa remained on the bridge, slowly inching forward at the cost of costly wounds and dwindling numbers. However, the effort was slow, and there seemed to be no end to the beastmen's numbers as more rushed forward. Kane spied some trying to crawl across on the underside of the bridge, trying to use it as a shield against the bullets. With a gesture, Damien directed some of his Sentinels to redirect their fire, which allowed the Quagoa to push forward.

"This is taking too long," Kane complained, crossing his arms.

"You're right," Damien said, pulling out a golden pocket watch and studied it. "We need to speed this up. Besides, I really want to try out the big guns."

Balmund gave Damien a questioning look, who in turn looked toward Kane. The pale man waved a hand. "Go on, you don't need my permission. They're _your_ toys, after all."

The bespectacled human bounced giddily and turned to face the courtyard and gave the Clockwork soldiers the order. The automatons jumped into action. They formed up behind the large, rumbling machine as the cannon aimed forward.

"Would you kindly open the gate once more?" Damien asked Balmund.

The dwarf commander nodded, and bellowed to the soldiers stationed at the gate. With some effort, the gates swung open once more, and the large "tank" rumbled forth through the opening. The Sentinels on the walls ceased firing.

"Watch this," the bespectacled human told the dwarf commander. "I think you'll find this...illuminating."

"We'll see," Zirdam murmured.

One of the tanks was on the bridge now. It was a snug fit, with hardly any room for the Quagoa or a human to try and circumvent it.

With the gunfire and flames now gone, the beastmen snarled and roared at the machine that now blocked their path. The blood thirsty moles charged forward, itching to sink their teeth and claws into this new obstacle. The cannons zeroed in on the charging wall of claw and fur - and unleashed hell.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The cannons let out a series of thunderous booms as glowing red rounds rocketed toward the beastmen. When it struck, the hordes of Quagoa were torn to bloody shreds. Limbs, organs, bone fragments went flying as the rounds cut through their line like a knife through hot butter. Balmund jumped in surprise by the force of the explosions and the carnage reaped by the tank's weaponry. The other dwarves and the members of Zirdam's expedition who witnessed what was transpiring were just as awed by the power of Damien's tank.

The tank rumbled forward and the Clockwork Sentinel's followed suit, brandishing their weapons. As Damien's forces moved forward, the Quagoa line began to wither away under the hail of cannon fire from the tank and long ranged shots from those stationed on the walls.

Balmund and the rest of the dwarves watched in awe as the large red Quagoa and the remainder of his forces hesitated. What bravado and ferocity they had seemed to have ebbed away when the tank turned their comrades to pulp. The fort commander wondered if this will be the first time that the enemy will retreat. The beastmen rarely lost a battle and the few times they did lose, they usually went on a suicidal charge, hoping to die with glory rather than surrender or retreat in shame. Would these do as their predecessors did?

After a tense few moments of near silence, the red Quagoa let out a loud, defiant roar, and bounded across the bridge. His subordinates followed suit. The remnants of the beastman army moved quickly and were very nearly upon the tank and the Sentinels, but a Sentinel, who popped out of the tank, silenced them for good with a burst from its machine gun turret. Silence fell on the fort. Everyone, save for the three players, stared in horror and wonder as the last of the Quagoa fell from the bridge and into endless darkness, bloody and horribly mutilated.

A long moment of silence passed before Damien turned to Balmund and smiled.

"Now then," the bespectacled human said. "Before we proceed, I believe we should have a little chat."

"About what?" the commander asked, still dazed by the carnage he witnessed.

"About pushing back against the enemy," Damien answered cryptically.

* * *

"I don't like this," Hekkeran Termite murmured as he and the rest of his party marched down the long, dark tunnel, with the rest of Zirdam's expedition. Guided by the faint glow of various glowing magical orbs created by the expedition's mages, the members of Foresight kept their eyes peeled for any enemies that may be lurking in the shadows.

"Neither do I," Roberdyck Goltron agreed, his eyes scanning the dark. He kept one hand on his mace and the other on the pendant around his neck. The templar murmured a prayer of protection for him and his comrades as the expedition delved deeper into the dark underground, heading deeper into Quagoa territory.

"Never trusted that bard," Imina said bitterly. The half-elf archer's anger was plain on her face. "I _knew_ there was something about him I didn't like. Him and his creepy friend. They're going to get us all killed."

"What makes you say that?" Arche asked, her eyes diligently scanning the crevices and shadowy areas of the tunnel.

"This stupid plan for starters!" Imina hissed. "Marching us deep into enemy territory, filled with blood thirsty beastmen and 'distract' them until that bastard and the rest of his party return from gods know where."

"I'd be inclined to agree," Roberdyck said, "but it is not right to speak ill of another."

"Seriously?"

"Besides, we're not alone" the templar jerked his head toward the two tanks and a contingent of Damien's golems - er, automatons, trailing behind them.

The half-elf archer shivered. She glanced over her shoulder and eyed one of the "Sentinels", as they were called. Their singular, glowing eyes, their porcelain smiles, and their four, spindly arms unnerved Imina, especially the ones with blades for arms, greatly resembling spiders. She felt as if they were going to attack them when their guard was down, even though they were assured that they were there to protect them.

"Creepy," Imina murmured.

"You said it," Hekkeran agreed.

Arche nodded silently. These automatons were unlike anything she had seen before. She had seen various types of golems, having grown up a member of the former aristocracy. As a student of the Imperial Magic Academy, Arche had learned of their construction and their uses. However, none of them matched the ones that had massacred the Quagoa at the bridge.

Golems were large, and were usually limited by the quality of the materials that they're made of. Damien's creations, however, moved with grace and efficiency that made the Academy's own creations seem slow and primitive by comparison. The power and talent that must have gone into creating just one of those Sentinels made Arche wonder as to who or what this Damien person was.

Sure, these things certainly didn't look that durable, especially when compared to your average golem, which usually loomed over the average person and looked sturdy enough to endure a few battles. But these golems looked much easier and cheaper to make, and when thinking about the sheer number of those things back at Damien's fort, she shivered at the idea of facing an army of these mechanical beings.

Turning her gaze toward the front of the column, Arche spied Damien riding atop one of his "tanks." Beside him was Kane, the man she observed at the beginning of the expedition back at Arven, and next to him was Gareth. She watched the blond bard talk to Kane, a serious expression fixed on his handsome face. The young mage studied him from afar, trying to guess what the bard may be saying and what his connection with Damien was.

Back when they were journeying to see him, guided by the mad woman calling herself "Jinx", Gareth had told her that he encountered him before. Were they enemies? Rivals? Or were they friends? The latter seemed likely, considering that Damien was currently assisting them. However, there was Jinx. She seemed just as likely to kill them than to help them. The more she thought about the bard, the more she wanted to know.

Gareth seemed friendly, maybe naive and foolish, but something told the young mage that there was more to him and his party. It's not every day that a party of new Adventurers bested a Platinum ranked party with relative ease, if the rumors were to be believed.

"Arche?" a voice spoke to her.

The young mage blinked and looked at Hekkeran, who was walking beside her. The leader of their party gave her a concerned look. "You okay?" he asked.

"Y-yes, I'm fine," she replied quickly, looking away.

"Alright," the swordsman said, sounding unconvinced.

The small army marched onward and further into the dark, guided by floating globes of light. Arche didn't know for sure how much time had passed, since there was no sun, moon, or stars to help. The tunnel snaked and turned corners. The path took them over large underground rivers and streams of cold water. Occasionally they stopped and rested but most of what they did was march. After what felt like an eternity of marching through tunnels, the expedition came to a spacious new chamber.

The Adventurers and Workers were surprised by the sheer size of the chamber. It was large enough to house a village. The walls were smooth and rose to meet the high, domed ceiling. There were three other tunnel openings, one forward and one on either side of them, leading to new tunnels that led elsewhere in the sprawling labyrinth of underground tunnels.

Flanking each of the three entrances were enormous dilapidated statues of fierce warriors, wielding fearsome hammers and axes, guarding the way. Despite their sorry state, the statues were still recognizably dwarven, and bespoke the quality of ancient dwarven stonework.

As the humans admired the size of the chamber and the statues, Arche noticed the tanks and the Clockwork Sentinels moving into position. The tanks formed a semi-circle, putting themselves between the adventurers and the three entrances. Their cannons swiveled and faced outward. The Clockwork Sentinels formed ranks behind the tanks and faced outward as well, their weapons at the ready as if they were expecting an attack at any moment.

_When, not if,_ Arche corrected herself. This deep into Quagoa territory, it was likely that an attack was going to happen sooner rather than later.

General Zirdam climbed atop Damien's tank. He was assisted by the bespectacled man and Sir Nimble. The general dusted himself off and cleared his throat.

"Alright everyone, may I have your attention please!" the general said in a loud voice which immediately caught everyone's attention. His voice echoed a little in the vast chamber.

"Although the job I posted stated that we were hunting dragons," Zirdam explained slowly and clearly, "the true nature of this job is to lend assistance to the Dwarf Kingdom."

Nobody said anything, though it was obvious there was some confusion and disappointment. Killing a dragon would've earned each individual and party a reputation, and even some worthwhile spoils. However, nobody was going to complain about helping the Dwarf Kingdom. They were, afterall, allies of the Empire, and provided all manner of trade, like gold and quality weaponry.

"Regardless," the general continued, "the pay remains the same. If you survive, you'll receive the exact same pay. If you kill and save the remains of a Quagoa, you may even earn a little bonus. I hear the Alchemist Guild and the Imperial Menagerie would pay a pretty price for Quagoa hide, maybe even more for a live one."

This perked the Adventurers and Workers up a bit. Though these beastmen seem ferocious and powerful, they did have a number of seasoned Rangers, some of whom were Beast Tamers: a risky job class, but very useful if one were hunting for a specific animal or beast. Judging from the renewed vigor of some and greedy looks in others, Arche knew right away that some were planning to capture a Quagoa alive.

"While I do advise against this, you are entitled to the spoils and bonuses that come if you do happen to slay or capture one yourselves," Zirdam explained. "And now, we come to the next phase of the job."

Silence fell on the assembled expedition, and everyone paid closer attention as the general continued.

"We will draw the Quagoa to us, and hold them here for as long as possible. In the meantime, a small team of volunteers will accompany Grolir on an errand. I will not lie, there is a very good chance that it won't succeed."

That caused some mutterings and head shakes. Although Adventurers and Workers put their lives on the line for money, very few would take those kinds of odds unless the reward was good and that they knew that the odds favored them.

"I will not force anyone to go," Zirdam continued, ignoring the nervous mutterings. "Like I said, this group will be filled with volunteers. As of yet, only Gareth Silvertongue and Lydia of The Good Companions have volunteered."

"Of course," Arche heard Imina murmur.

"Whether you stay or go, it's up to you," Zirdam said with a sigh. "It makes no difference, there will be extreme danger, and possibly even death. But remember this, there is a great reward waiting for us if we survive, maybe even a bigger one for those willing to go with Grolir."

Silence fell once more over the members of the expedition. People looked towards each other and at others to see who would volunteer for such a risky task. The silence continued for a good long moment, and began to feel very awkward, until Arche raised her hand.

"I volunteer!" she said loudly. All eyes were on her, and she instantly began to regret it.

The young mage noticed looks of disbelief and mockery, though nobody said anything, otherwise their words might be misconstrued as indications of volunteering.

"Excellent!" General Zirdam smiled warmly. "Anyone else?"

"Arche…" Hekkeran said softly.

"I have to do this," the young mage whispered to her friend. "For my family…"

"I volunteer as well!" Roberdyck spoke up, raising his hand.

"I'll go!" another voice chimed in.

Arche looked and saw a dark haired man in a white and silver cloak. She recognized him as the leader of the White Clovers, Marcus. He was a skilled swordsman and an effective leader, though some have stated that he was capped at gold. Regardless, the young mage felt a measure of comfort having both Roberdyck and a trustworthy Adventurer like Marcus accompanying her.

After a brief length of silence and no more volunteers, General Zirdam concluded that nobody else wanted to risk their lives for a dangerous, unknown task. With that, the general clapped his hands together.

"Very well then," he said solemnly. "Everyone ready yourselves, we're about to begin."

The general nodded to someone standing next to the tank, and hopped off as Gareth the bard climbed atop the large, metal vehicle.

The Adventurers and Workers checked their weapons and their items as they readied themselves for battle. Meanwhile, the blond bard reached into a pouch that hung on his belt, and pulled out a thin stick made of pale white wood.

Arche frowned. It obviously wasn't a mage's staff. Maybe it was a wand? No, that can't be right. The wands she's seen were more ornate, and were usually a bit larger. This stick just looked like a stick to her. Just what was the bard planning to do with it?

"Nice acoustics…" Gareth murmured to himself.

When everyone was ready, the bard lifted his hands, one empty and the other holding the stick. In the suffocating silence of the cavern, everyone heard soft rhythmic drumming.

_Duh-duh-dum-dum-dum-dum-dum, duh-duh-dum-dum-dum-dum-dum._

Using his wrist, Gareth moved the stick back and forth slightly. His free hand moved up and down slightly, keeping with the rhythm of the phantom drumming.

He lifted his hand and began moving his fingers, as if he were plucking a stringed instrument. As he did so, a phantom stringed instrument, a lute maybe, began to play. The instrumentals grew louder and louder. Glowing musical notes appeared in the air and began to circle around the bard like birds of prey circling their dinner.

The Adventurers and Workers all took a step back as the air hummed with music and magic. Suddenly, the bard brought his hands and the stick down, and a deep, powerful boom echoed through the silence like thunder. A cloud of dust was kicked up, and was sent billowing into the three tunnel entrances. The force and abruptness rattled Arche's teeth, and made her heart jump.

The music swelled and grew louder as the floating musical notes changed color and began to zip around Gareth like angry hornets. The bard's eyes were closed, his face was calm and composed. The tone and feel of the song sounded sinister and powerful. Everyone within the vicinity grew uneasy and felt as though they were getting wound up for a fight. The music grew louder, more intense and distorted. Arche felt magic thrum and pulse from the bard. It was powerful, easily third tier magic, but the young mage couldn't fathom what sort of spell was being cast.

Was this the power of a bard? She had heard how they wove magic into their music, but in all her life, she'd never heard of a bard doing something like this.

The music reached its crescendo and then…

It stopped.

The glowing musical notes evaporated instantly with the phantom music, and Gareth lowered his hands. His eyes opened slowly. A serious expression formed on his flawless face.

"That should do it," he said, looking at the general.

"Think they'll come?" General Zirdam asked.

"Without a doubt," the bard replied firmly. "They're not going to be happy, but at least now you'll have a shot."

The general nodded grimly.

From there the expedition scrambled to get ready. The general divided the Adventurers and Workers into groups, each assigned to one of the three tunnel entrances. Zirdam selected one Adventurer/Worker from each group to lead them and to report directly to him. While it was no secret on how powerful Damien's weapons were, (after all, they saw how easily they tore the Quagoa to pieces at the fort), they had a different plan in mind. Each group was tasked with venturing into the tunnels and agitating the enemy in order to lure them back into an ambush, conducted by Damien's tanks and Clockwork Sentinels.

General Zirdam's own men were mixed into the groups going into the tunnels, leaving only Sir Nimble behind to guard him at the rear. As the members of the expedition ventured into the dark tunnels, Damien and his Sentinels remained behind with the tanks to provide long range artillery support. They were also there to prevent any from slipping past, and to act as the last line of offense should they all be killed. Though this drew some grumbles, preferring to stay behind the tanks and the mechanical soldiers, Damien cheerfully informed the disgruntled warriors that his creations were excellent shots. So long as everyone does as they're supposed to, everyone will return to the surface alive and earn their gold.

Hekkeran and Imina were assigned to a group composed of members from the White Clovers, Screaming Whip, The Good Companions, and two other Adventurer groups. Tasked with leading the combined teams into the tunnels was Kane, the dark and gloomy assassin that sometimes got on their nerves. That annoyed Hekkeran and Imina, but neither complained out loud.

As Hekkeran and Imina's group assembled at the mouth of their assigned tunnel, the two bid their goodbyes and good lucks to their two departing comrades.

"Keep a sharp eye out," Hekkeran urged. "You never know what you might run into."

"And watch out for that bard," Imina warned. "He might do something to mess everything up."

"I will," Arche said with a nod, her stomach twisted into nervous knots.

"Keep an eye on her," Hekkeran told Roberdyck. "If something goes wrong, get out of there."

"I will," the blond templar nodded.

"Yoohoo~!" a sing-songy voice called from afar.

The members of Foresight looked and saw Kane, the sinister looking pale man in all black, waving to them.

"Come on!" he yelled at them. "Get your asses over here! It's party time!"

Imina scowled at the man and bit back a nasty curse. She turned to Arche and gave her a hug.

"Good luck," the half elf said.

"Thanks," the young mage replied.

Imina released Arche and, with Hekkeran, went off to join the tall, pale man and the rest of their group. The rest of the expedition began to split up and take positions at their assigned tunnels. Serious and nervous expressions were painted on everyone's faces. The Sentinels marched and tanks rumbled into position. Soon, Arche and Roberdyck found themselves standing alone.

"Ready to go?" a voice said behind the two.

The two Workers turned and saw a dwarf with a bushy white beard and flowing white hair to match. Standing beside him were Marcus, Gareth, and Lydia, all ready and carrying their weapons and supplies.

Arche and Roberdyck nodded.

"Good!" the ancient looking dwarf said with a smile. "Then let us get going. We don't have much time."

With that, Grolir set off at a brisk pace, with the team of volunteers making sure to not fall behind. Their temporary leader moved quickly for a dwarf, especially one of his age. He led them to one of the enormous statues guarding the tunnel entrances. Grolir scrambled up onto the feet of the giant statues and ran his hands along the rough, worn stone, searching for something.

After a few moments, the dwarf exclaimed, "Ah ha!"

He placed his hands on a section of the statue's leg and pressed on it. Arche saw a faded dwarven rune glow bright blue. Seams formed in the rock, and the slab of rock swung inward like a door, revealing a dark, narrow passageway. In the faint light of the orbs Arche summoned, thin, silvery webs shone faintly as they crisscrossed the length of the passage.

"Doesn't look like anyone has been through here in a long, _long_ time" Gareth observed.

"Which is good for us," Grolir said with a grin. "They won't see us coming!"

"Who won't see us coming?" Arche asked with a frown.

"The Quagoa," Gareth answered "and their...friend, Olasird'arc Haylilyal."

"The White Dragon Lord?" Roberdyck gasped.

"Oh, you heard of him?" the bard asked.

"Only stories from paladins and knights that come to the temple for healing and aid. He's a cruel and vicious monster, even amongst dragons. Many have tried to slay him, but none have succeeded. Those who manage to escape his wrath are hardly the same." The blond templar said, stroking his beard. "I see now. That is our mission, is it? We are here to kill the White Dragon Lord?"

"Oh no, no, no," Grolir responded quickly, shaking his head. "Don't be ridiculous. He's far too powerful for the likes of us. Maybe one day that beast will meet his end, but not today. Besides, should the dragon be slain, I fear the mountains will be worse off. His wives and sons would turn their gaze toward your Empire, as would the Quagoa and the Frost Giants. Though Olasird'arc Haylilyal is a monster, he is a necessary evil that keeps worse dangers and evils in check."

Roberdyck nodded slowly, seeing the logic in Grolir's words.

"Come along now, step lightly" the dwarf urged, waving a hand. "We must hurry."

Grolir stepped into the dark passage and kept going. Gareth followed suit, then Lydia and Marcus. Roberdyck allowed Arche to go first, and as soon as the templar stepped across the opening, the stone door slid back into place and sealed itself.

Fortunately, Arche had her light orbs, otherwise they would all be plunged into total darkness. The young mage took a deep breath, and hurried after the other members of the team with Roberdyck following close behind.

* * *

Gareth was beginning to feel very cramped as they ventured further down the passage. The ground was uneven and undulated like a wave. The ceiling was low in parts and in some instances the walls drew close, forcing the bard and his companions to suck in their guts and slide along for a distance.

Despite the uncomfortable and terrifying setting they were in, Gareth couldn't help but worry about those they left behind.

Neither Gareth nor Grolir knew how long they'll be gone for. While Damien's forces were more than enough to help the general, they couldn't hold out indefinitely, especially if their distraction drew the attention of the White Dragon Lord. The bard hoped that they could get in and get out quickly without any trouble.

Each step kicked up a puff of dust that filled the musty air.

After what seemed like hours, the passage came to a dead end. Grolir inspected the smooth wall of stone, caressing it with his rough old hands, until he uncovered a rune identical to the one he discovered on the statue.

Grolir had explained in depth the nature of runecraft to Gareth, and the bard was still trying to wrap his mind around it. The symbols resembled ancient Norse runes from Earth, and allegedly were imbued with power. It was a dying art, thanks to the disaster that befell the dwarven capital, but there were still some who understood the mechanics and script enough to preserve the knowledge and use it when handling ancient dwarven artifacts.

The plan was to distract the Quagoa, and by extension, the White Dragon Lord, in order to open a path to the royal treasure vault at the palace in Feo Berkana. Using Damien's heavy weaponry, the party of humans would definitely draw a lot of attention to themselves, which was the hopeful outcome. In the meantime, Gareth and the others would raid the vault and steal back the Runesmith King's warhammer and whatever they could get their hands on. It seemed simple, but the further they delved into this forgotten passage, Gareth was beginning to have some doubts.

The bard shook his head and forced himself to focus. They can do this. They _had_ to do this.

"Douse the light," Grolir ordered Arche. "From here on, we need to move like shadows. Cautious and stealthy."

Arche nodded and obeyed.

Although his eyesight wasn't as good as his brother's in the dark, Gareth could see Grolir brush away the dust, revealing the ancient rune that acted as the lock and triggered it. The ancient symbol glowed faintly, and the ancient stone door rumbled open. A faint, blue light poured through the opening, along with a gust of cool and fresh air. For a moment, Gareth thought that they ended up outside somehow, but on second glance, the bard saw that they were still underground. Beyond the doorway, lay a vast, underground chamber far greater than any they had previously encountered, save for the Great Rift.

The passageway ended at a high cliff overlooking a vast valley blanketed by ramshackled buildings lying in the shadow of a once great city of stone. A patch work of farms sprawled outward from the ruined city with a network of canals, carrying shimmering fresh water to the flourishing crops. Gareth stared in amazement at the sheer grandeur of what he was seeing. The ancient ruins of what he assumed was Feo Berkana easily matched the ruins of ancient civilizations from back home, maybe even surpassing them. High, high above the ruined city and patch work of farms and crudely constructed homesteads, there was a sea of luminescent fungi and crystals that bathed the underground valley in a soft pale light, reminiscent of a full moon in a cloudless night sky.

Arche and the other members of the retrieval team were just as awestruck by the view, save for Grolir, who regarded the city down below with melancholy.

"This is amazing," Gareth whispered to Grolir. "This is beyond anything that I have ever seen. This is truly...fantastic."

"Aye, that it is," Grolir sighed. "But look." the dwarf nodded at the patchwork quilt of crops and canals.

The bard followed the dwarf's direction and saw shapes moving in the dimness. It took him a moment to realize that the shapes were a mixture of dwarves and Quagoa. Gareth frowned, remembering Grolir mentioning how captured dwarves were enslaved, forced to work and teach their captors how to farm and other essential skills.

Echoing the distance, Gareth could hear whip cracks and pained cries. His heart went out to them. He could feel misery, despair and anger rising from the valley below him like a heatwave, but they weren't part of the mission. Maybe not yet. If they can get the Runesmith King's hammer, maybe they can strike a blow to the enemy's morale, especially after Damien and the others leave them with a seriously bloodied nose.

Remembering that they were on the clock, Gareth turned to Grolir and asked, "Where to?"

…

It took a considerable amount of time and sneaking, but Grolir and the rest of the retrieval team managed to work their way to the city proper.

The ancient dwarf led them along the cliff, taking them around the outskirts and closer to the city, until they reached a set of crumbling old stone stairs that led into a burnt out quarter of the ruined city. Climbing down was slow, since they didn't want to make a sound or accidentally destroy their only escape route. At the bottom of the stairs, Grolir led them through the burnt out remains of what Gareth supposed was once an affluent neighborhood. Lining the broad desolate streets, the houses stood empty and quiet, as if waiting for their original inhabitants to return.

These once grand stone houses stood, bearing the scars of what looked like a violent war like ruined gravestones. Some were blackened and charred, others were caved in and smashed, as if by angry giants. As the team darted from building to building, cloaking themselves in the shadows and wending their way toward the ancient palace in the distance, Gareth caught a glimpse of a dwarf skeleton through a gaping hole in a wall. Lying slumped in a corner, gripping the blackened remains of a doll in its arms, the dwarf was charred and bore an eternal grin in the dim light.

The bard shivered, realizing what the skeleton was holding wasn't a doll. He could scarcely imagine the horrors that took place here, especially since this was a deliberate annihilation committed by a group of malevolent beings called "Demon Gods" by those who were victimized by their sadistic rampage.

Occasionally, the group stopped and ducked for cover in the shadow dappled ruins, since pairs of Quagoa patrolled the street. These moles moved lazily and uncaringly, not really paying any heed to their surroundings. Gareth had his hand on his lute. Since they had an immunity to metal, maybe he'd hit them another type of metal. The music kind.

Fortunately, he didn't need it. Once the Quagoa moved on, so did the party. Their path took them uphill, passing through what was once a market, and eventually, to the palace itself. From how empty the streets were and how they didn't run into many patrols, it seemed like their plan was working. According to Grolir, the palace was home to the White Dragon Lord and hosted a staggering host of Frost Dragons who obeyed him. Currently, all was quiet and peaceful, with nary a dragon in sight. It would seem that Jinx's distraction on the surface was working. Maybe they could really pull this off.

To say that the palace was big would be an understatement. It was immense. Even compared to the architecture back home, Gareth could hardly find an accurate comparison. The closest approximation he could come up with were some of the major monuments and government buildings in Washington D.C. that he'd seen in old movies and news reports. But even those places looked modest in comparison.

The walls rose high above them, each brick as large as a grown man. Pillars as tall and thick as ancient redwood trees held up an immense, gilded ceiling. Before crossing the vast threshold of the front entrance, Grolir had Arche check for traps with magic. She found none. The ancient dwarf was relieved.

"There was once an army of golems tasked with guarding the palace" he informed the others softly. "I just wanted to be sure that we didn't trigger them. Fortunately, it seems our adversary has already dealt with whatever traps and security measures the royal stonemasons left behind long ago."

Through the front entrance and across the vestibule, Grolir led the team further into the palace. As they sprinted through the grand and spacious halls, Gareth couldn't help but feel like he was shrunken down to the size of a mouse, and was running around a mega mansion. Although the palace was mostly intact, the damage and decay became more apparent the further in they went. Great marble pillars lay shattered like felled trees, gaping holes in walls and the ceiling allowed the faint light of the crystals and fungi inside. Eventually, they descended into the lower levels, toward the armory, the dungeons. and, most important of all, the Royal Treasure Vault.

At the bottom of the grand staircase, the team navigated their way through a dark labyrinth of corridors until they came to their final destination. The corridor ended at a wide chamber filled with pale light filtering in through the broken ceiling and the floors above. Before them sat an enormous metal wall, covered with a series of runes that were arranged in a spiral. At the center of the spiral was a crest of sorts.

"This is it," Grolir informed his companions. "The Royal Treasure Vault. Still intact by the looks of it."

"How do you know that?" Arche asked.

"Look at it! Not a mark on it. It seems the vault withstood the calamity wrought by the Demon Gods," the dwarf explained with a smile. "If that's the case, then it's a safe bet that it would withstand the power of an army of dragons, even a Dragon Lord."

The party approached the wall and looked up at it, admiring the craftsmanship and immensity of the vault. According to their dwarven leader, dragons coveted gold and none coveted it as much as the White Dragon Lord. If he were able to break the vault then they would've seen it. Astonishingly, there wasn't a scratch on the smooth grey metallic surface of the vault's door, let alone any sign of aging. However, it quickly became apparent to the majority of the team that there was a slight issue.

"How do we get in?" Marcus asked, giving voice to the question on the minds of the non-dwarf members of the party. "I don't see a handle or any locks. How does one get into a vault without any way in?"

"That is the brilliance of the Royal Treasure Vault," Grolir told the Adventurer with a grin. "It was designed by the Runesmith King himself! Not only a master of Runecraft, he was also an accomplished Magic Craftsman. He created this vault to withstand the ages. It is impregnable to all, save for the gods themselves or for one bearing the combination."

"And do you have this combination?" Gareth asked, hoping that they didn't come all this way for nothing. The bard still wasn't confident in whether or not he could hold a dragon at bay and ensure his companions' safety.

Grolir's grin wavered. "I...I have most of it."

"Most of it?" Marcus asked, raising an eyebrow.

The dwarf nodded reluctantly. "Aye. With the Royal Family gone, knowledge of the vault's combination has faded. His stewards knew and had passed it down before they too were gone. Unfortunately, through constant war and strife, the knowledge grew fragmented and murky. It took me many years of searching to piece the information together, but I'm confident that I can get it without triggering the failsafe."

"Failsafe?" Arche echoed, her voice thick with worry.

"A nasty spell that kills anyone who inputs the wrong combination too many times," Grolir answered quickly. "But-but it's nothing to worry about. I'm certain that it won't take that many attempts."

Gareth sighed heavily but he nodded "Alright, well lets-" the bard stopped when he heard something.

"Sir Gareth?" Lydia asked, but the bard held up a hand to silence her.

Grolir, Marcus, Arche and Roberdyck fell silent as well. The party stood in silence and waited for a few tense moments before the distant sound Gareth heard grew closer and louder. They all looked up and saw a great shadow cross high over the hole in the ceiling and upper floors. A deep and heavy thud sounded, rattling the stone above, shaking loose some dust and dirt.

In the distance they could hear a deep, thunderous roar echo in the dark, followed by a loud commanding voice calling for someone. Another powerful voice could be heard, and they began to converse about something in low rumbling tones.

"Oh gods…" Grolir breathed, his face grew incredibly pale.

"Th-that's him?" Arche asked, terror appearing on her pale features.

The dwarf nodded.

Gareth silently cursed. The White Dragon Lord was here and it sounded like he wasn't alone. From all the stories he's heard, the bard knew that his party was in serious trouble. He and Lydia might be able to take this guy on, but not the others. They really needed to get out of here.

The bard waved and made to leave, but Grolir and the others stayed put. He waved again, more urgently this time but they remained rooted to the spot.

"We can't leave yet," Grolir whispered frantically. "We-we've come so far."

"It's too dangerous," the bard hissed. "We need to get out of here or at least find somewhere safe to hide."

"We can't go out there, we might get caught," Arche reasoned as she held her staff close.

"We'll get caught if we stay here" Roberdyck murmured.

Before they could deliberate further, the ceiling and upper floors shook, sending more dust cascading down and the sound of powerful wingbeats grew more distant. At first Gareth and the others thought that the White Dragon Lord had left, but from the way the upper floors thumped like distant cannon fire and the way the stones quaked, they realized that he, or some other dragon, was still up there and he was moving towards the wide, gaping hole above them.

Grolir and the others scuttled away, hoping to take shelter in the shadows gathered in one corner of the chamber but it wasn't nearly dark enough nor was it completely hidden from a higher view. Thinking quickly, Gareth came up with a plan. A dangerously stupid plan, but a plan nonetheless.

"Stay here," the bard hissed, "and get to work on the vault. Do it quietly, or we're all screwed. Once you're done, go. Don't wait for me. Take the hammer and run. I'll catch up."

"What? Why?" Grolir asked.

The bard didn't answer as he stepped forth into the light filling the center of the chamber. Taking one last look back, he winked at his friends and, using **[Fly]**, shot straight upward through the opening, soaring past the different levels of the palace until he came to a vast courtyard. He landed gently on the edge of the opening and looked about.

The courtyard looked large enough to host a crowded market and appeared to have once hosted a lush garden. The garden was now nothing more than thistles, weeds and parched earth. Fragments of a once glorious, kingly statue lay scattered about and glittering with what remained of its jeweled and gilded ornamentation.

"There you are," a deep, commanding voice rumbled, which made Gareth's bones rattle. Turning around, the bard instantly locked eyes with Olasird'arc Haylilyal, the White Dragon Lord and the current ruler of Feo Berkana and all who resided within it. "I sensed a little mouse scurrying about in _my _palace. What brings you here, into _my_ garden? Hoping to escape, or were you throwing yourself at my mercy, realizing the futility of escape?"

For a moment, the bard was speechless. The dragon before him was big - no, - enormous. The White Dragon Lord easily rivaled the monstrous Frost Dragon that came to the aid of the Frost Giant King, but what set him apart from that beast was the power and intelligence that radiated from this dragon.

Covered in glittering light blue scales, Olasird'arc Haylilyal seemed to shine in the faint light that shone down on the courtyard from the earthen ceiling far above them both. Snowy white horns curved backward on his elongated head. His eyes glowed like two supernatural sapphires, filled with a kind of power that would freeze lesser creatures. The temperature around him seemed to drop as he watched the bard. His massive tail moved gradually like a python, his wings folded in onto his back.

"Well?" the Dragon Lord rumbled "Have you nothing to say or has fear taken your wits and your speech?"

"Forgive me!" Gareth chuckled nervously, sounding almost out of breath "I-I was merely admiring your grandeur, o mighty Olasird'arc Haylilyal."

The enormous dragon didn't react. "You know my name" he stated, sounding bored, "but you have yet to answer my question. _Why_ have you come to _my_ palace?"

"To see you," the bard said, removing his cap and bowing low, "for I am Gareth Silvertongue, a humble bard. I have heard many tales of the great and powerful White Dragon Lord of the Azerlisia Mountains!" Gareth began to pour on the charm, socially and magically. He delved deep within, and began pretending to be a fantasy bard. No, not pretend, he had to _be_ a bard. He had to convince this intelligent and dangerous creature that he was who he said he was. It also helped that Gareth was doing his damnedest to use his Bardic Voice to sooth and lull this monster into a sense of ease.

"Have you?" Olasird'arc Haylilyal said, and sent a gust of cold air toward the bard.

Gareth brushed aside the hair that was blown into his face, and adopted an award winning smile.

"Indeed I have. It is the job of a bard to journey far and wide, to every corner of every land they visit and collect stories from the highest and the lowest." Gareth continued.

"And you snuck into my palace, like a thief in the night?" The dragon growled, his glowing eyes flared dangerously.

"I wouldn't really say sneak," Gareth reasoned. "I called out to see if anyone was home and nobody answered. There wasn't really a front door or any guards so I...let myself in." The bard continued smiling "I really am sorry if I have offended you, but I couldn't help myself. This palace is magnificent! Of all the palaces I have seen on my travels, this is by far the most glorious. It is worthy of a being as glorious as yourself."

The dragon stared at Gareth. The bard could sense that he was angry but not toward him. He seemed to be angry toward someone else. This was confirmed when the dragon growled what sounded like a name.

"I-I beg your pardon?" Gareth asked.

"Hejinmal," Olasird'arc Haylilyal growled. "My weakling son. He was supposed to be guarding the palace while we were away. He probably slunk back into the library, the coward."

Gareth nodded slowly, and he saw that the Dragon Lord paused and had a perplexed look on his face, as if he was confused as to why he would tell a simple human something so private and personal. The bard worried that he may be putting on his soothing charms a little too thick, and decided to dial back a bit. The Dragon Lord blinked and continued.

"Well, you wanted a story, little human?" Olasird'arc Haylilyal purred. "Here I am. Ask me whatever questions you may have and, if I'm feeling kind, I will answer them."

"Thank you-" Gareth began, but the dragon continued.

"However, if you ask a question I do not like, I will rip you into tiny pieces and feed you to my children." The dragon snorted, sending out a cloud of cold, frigid air into the bard's face to emphasize the gravity of the situation.

Gareth swallowed hard and nodded.

"Good," the dragon laid down on the ground, it's long and sharp tail wrapped itself around him "Shall we begin?"

The bard nodded again, and silently prayed that Grolir and the others were done and already halfway home by now. He took a deep breath and began asking some questions he was able to put together on the spot.

* * *

As Gareth distracted the White Dragon Lord, high above them, on the surface, a battle raged. A howling blizzard swirled about the towering peak that stood above the underground city. The shrieking winds were joined by the angry and pained roars of Frost Dragons and Frost Giants as they were locked in pitched combat.

The two armies clashed in the snow. One giant felled a dragon with a powerful club strike to it's skull, sending blood, brain, and bone flying. A pair of dragons savagely tore into a lone giant that tried to hold them both at bay with its powerful hands. There were even small battles raging between Frost Dragons. Those loyal to the White Dragon Lord battled for supremacy against those collaborating with the Frost Giants, who fought to take control of the tunnels that lead into the heart of the Dragon Lord's doman, Feo Berkana. The once pure and pristine snow quickly darkened with blood and bodies as old grudges played out in the blizzard.

The King of the Frost Giant tribes stood amongst the storm of snow and violence, his staff of magic in one hand and a mighty frost coated sword in the other, staring down his foe. Before him was an enormous pale blue dragon, standing in the snow, its head held high and proud. As of yet, neither of the two made a move. Both seized each other up and were contemplating who would strike first and what moves they would make afterward. The giant king's scarred and burnt face was a twisted mask of unfettered rage and hatred. Though in the past, he wouldn't have dared an attack this audacious, but coming so close to death and being horribly burnt by that wretched blue haired woman put things into perspective for him.

After being blown out of the sky and nursing his wounds in his cave, the giant king contemplated his life. For too long he had sat around on his throne and cautiously planned. For too long he had retreated and hid from the arrogant bastard dragon and his wretched offspring. He was a warrior! He shouldn't be hiding like a coward. He has done nothing for too long. After recovering enough, the King of the Frost Giants set out and gathered his forces for a daring surprise attack on the Dragon Lord's stronghold when the arrogant bitch who nearly killed him sauntered into view. She mocked and threatened him until he couldn't take it anymore. The Frost Giant King pursued her, with all his forces, all the way into the heart of the dragon's territory. Though his subordinates were hesitant and worried about being so deep into enemy territory, the king relished it. Eliminate two problems in one strike. Although the blue haired human seemingly vanished, the Frost Dragons presented themselves. They swarmed from the tunnel entrances like a swarm of overgrown, scaly bats. Leading the charge was Arycgos, one of the Dragon Lord's sons. He was accompanied by his mother, one the Dragon Lord's many concubines.

That made the enormous Frost Giant smile. Fortune is smiling on him this day. Killing them would deal a nasty wound to that bastard's overinflated pride.

A loud thunderous crash suddenly filled the air, and the two immobile combatants looked up.

Above them in the clouds, the King Frost Giant's own dragon servant battled with one of the Dragon Lord's numerous concubines. The two collided, snapping their powerful jaws at each other, clawing at one another as they struggled to stay aloft. Both dealt nasty wounds to each other, but neither were willing to give in.

After an eternity of waiting, it was Arycgos who launched the first strike. The blue dragon unfurled his wings and launched himself to him. The giant king raised his staff to block and quickly readied his sword to retaliate. The two quickly became entangled in their own struggle.

…

Meanwhile, sitting on the edge of a cliff overlooking the battle, Jinx cheered for the giants and laughed as the carnage intensified.

"Come on boys! Show 'em who's boss!" the blue haired woman hollered down at the struggling Frost Giants as if she was cheering on her favorite sports team. "Let's see some hustle out there, Harry! Are you really going to take that Maurice?! Rip that asshole's head off! Aw, what? That's cheating! Boo!"

**["Jinx,"]** a familiar voice spoke in her head.

The blue haired maniac paused and looked about. **["Is that you, God?"]**

**["Jinx,"]** the voice repeated, this time sounding a little annoyed.

**["I'm kidding, I know it's you, boss. What's up?"]**

**["How goes 'Operation Sacrificial Pawns'?"]** Damien asked.

"Better than we thought. Honestly, I thought these icy murder hobos would get massacred, but they're really putting up a fight. How are things on your end?"

**["Good, though I don't know how much longer we can keep this up,"] **Damien said, sounding a little distracted. **["Has Gareth and his team made contact? Do they need an extraction?"]**

Jinx shrugged. **["I don't know. It's just me, myself, and I up here. Haven't heard a peep from Pretty Boy and the doof troop. If they were heading up this way instead of the rendezvous point, I'd know. You think they might need a handy?"]**

There was a pause as Jinx sensed her creator pondering her words and their current situation.

**["Perhaps,"]** Damien murmured, **["though it wouldn't surprise me if they've hit a little snag. This vault is supposed to be pretty tough and sitting under the big boss dragon."]**

**["Want me to go and rescue our fair damsels?"]** Jinx asked.

**["No, hold your position. We need to keep the dragons occupied."]**

**["But what if more dragons show up and my guys get overwhelmed?"]**

**["Then you can deal with them."]**

A smile appeared on her face. "Goody" she said aloud as she felt the connection with her creator break. The blue haired maniac sat there, waited and hoped that more showed up. Fortunately for her, they did.

* * *

Gareth sat cross legged in front of the White Dragon Lord, strumming his lute and listening to the enormous mythical creature recount tales of his exploits.

"...and in the ensuing battle, what remained of that dwarf city, Feo Teiwaz, was destroyed."

The dragon let out a heavy sigh, unleashing a heavy gust of cold wind that reeked of rotten meat. "Although the treasure in that city became lost to me, I had gained a new bride, who will bear my young."

"A happy ending, I see," Gareth asked with a tinge of sarcasm. The dragon didn't react; either he didn't care or noticed. Regardless, Olasird'arc Haylilyal nodded slowly.

"Indeed, though she is headstrong and fiercely questions my commands. Even threatens to destroy my palace if I go too far."

"Such is the life of a married man - er, dragon."

The White Dragon Lord let out a low, hitched rumbling sound, which the bard could've sworn sounded like a laugh. The dragon laughed for a solid minute, before letting out a sigh. An awkward silence fell on the two. The air in the courtyard garden was still enough to hear a pin drop.

Gareth grew nervous and tried coming up with a way to break the awkwardness but the dragon spoke first.

"Tell me a story, _bard_" the dragon drew out the word, as if testing it out for the first time.

"Pardon?"

"A story," Olasird'arc repeated. "You have said that it is your job to travel far and collect stories. I have told you one and feel no desire to tell you more. I wish to hear stories from other lands."

The bard nodded slowly and smiled. "Of course. I know many stories. What story do you wish to hear?"

The great dragon moved his shoulders a bit, shrugging. "Whatever suits your fancy."

Gareth mentally swore and pondered what he was going to tell the dangerous, ice breathing dragon. As the bard contemplated what he was going to do, a high, gruff voice spoke.

"My lord!"

Olasird'arc and Gareth looked and saw a lanky looking goblin in ill-fitted royal robes stumbling into the courtyard. Around his neck were dozens of gold and jeweled necklaces, which bounced and rang loudly with each step.

The goblin skidded to a halt a few feet away from the two and prostrated himself, pressing his forehead to the stoney path.

"My lord Olasird'arc!" the goblin cried. "Sire, Clan Lord Pe Riyuro has requested an audience with thee!"

"Tell him to wait," the White Dragon Lord sighed. "I am with someone at the moment."

"I-I tried but-but,"

"O Mighty Dragon Lord of Feo Berkana!" a deep, booming voice sounded from behind the goblin.

All eyes turned and fixed on a large Quagoa, who strolled into the courtyard, on his hind legs and wore a leather loincloth. The mole beastman paused beside the goblin and bowed his head low.

Gareth felt a mixture of relief and heightened anxiety.

On the one hand, the bard may have dodged a bullet. Most of his stories were from a dozen major fantasy classics he read back home, most of which involved killing a tyrannical dragon who took something from a dwarf/human kingdom. On the other hand, this Quagoa might be reporting on the distraction that Damien and the others were putting on, and may put two and two together by seeing him there.

Olasird'arc let out a deep, threatening growl that made the hair on the back of Gareth's neck stand.

"It is rude to barge in on a private meeting," the White Dragon Lord growled at the Quagoa.

The golden furred Quagoa nodded, he kept his head low.

"I understand," the Clan Lord said humbly, "but there is a situation."

"If you are referring to the pests attempting to breach the surface tunnels, fret not. Arycgos and Maelys are dealing with them as we speak."

"No, I am referring to the human army that is currently engaging our border guards."

_Shit,_ Gareth swore in his mind.

The dragon's eyes flared, his head rising. "What?"

"Apparently the vanguard we sent to take the fortress guarding the Great Rift had been obliterated," the Clan Lord explained. "The dwarves still hold the crossing and have apparently sent a force of their own, comprised of humans and-and-and-"

"And what?"

"Golems, at least I believe they're golems. They're unlike anything I have ever seen. They even have machines that are able to overcome our immunity to metal. That's not all, I heard reports that strange music was heard and that our sentries were lured away from their posts. When their comrades went to retrieve them, they were ambushed by this force. They're currently battling near the Crossroads outside of the city as we speak."

The bard saw the wheels turning in the Dragon Lord's head and he began to panic. Taking a deep breath, Gareth forced himself to be calm. He needed to not look guilty and not do anything too obvious. He didn't want to give anything away too soon. Using **[Message]**, the bard reached out to Lydia.

**["Lydia,"]** the bard spoke in his mind.

**["My lord?"]** the elf responded at once.

**["Please tell me that Grolir got the vault door open."]**

There was a slight pause, and the elf responded.

**["Not yet my lord, though he has assured me that he almost has it."]**

Gareth exhaled through his nose and tried his hardest not to scream obscenities right then and there. He swallowed hard and told Lydia, **["Tell him to hurry up. I think our goose is cooked."]**

**["My lord?"]**

**["I'll try to distract them. Once the vault is open, get the hammer and get them back to Damien and the others. I'll find my own way out. Understand?"]**

After sensing some very strong reluctance, Lydia agreed.

The bard severed the communication link, and just in time it seemed.

"And what would you have me do?" the Dragon Lord demanded.

"Allow us to use the items in your trove," the Quagoa Clan Lord answered. "I rarely ask for your assistance, but I believe that this situation warrants it."

"And let you know where I keep my most valued treasures? Forget it." Olasird'arc sneered. "And what of the Quagoa's oh-so vaunted bravery and tenacity?"

Anger and indignation flashed in the Clan Lord's eyes. It looked like he was on the verge of throwing out his own snappy comeback, but the mole creature held his tongue.

"Our bravery and tenacity is not in question," Pe Riyuro growled, carefully choosing his words. "We have been taken by surprise by these machines. They are unlike any I have seen before. They are powerful, and have claimed the lives of many of my warriors. They may even pose a threat to your life, Dragon Lord."

It was Olasird'arc's turn to be indignant. His sapphire eyes flared and he bared his sword sized teeth, streams of cold air and frost leaked from his mouth threateningly.

"As if an army of pathetic humans and their shoddy weapons could ever pose a threat to _me_ or to my family."

"If we do nothing, my warriors will be forced to retreat, which in turn may embolden the humans and their dwarf allies."

The White Dragon Lord scowled at Pe Riyuro for a long moment, before letting out a grunt.

"Very well. Go to Hejinmal and tell him that you have my permission to use whatever weapons you wish, even the Steel Golems."

Pe Riyuro bowed low. "Thank you for your kindness." He didn't sound very pleased despite being granted permission, but there was a sense of relief.

The mole creature lifted his head and turned to leave, but paused. He turned and looked at Gareth. Confusion filled his expression.

"What is this human doing here?" the Clan Lord asked.

"I was about to ask the very same thing," Olasird'arc said, his sapphire gaze turning toward Gareth "Apparently, he is a bard, a collector of songs and stories. He says that he wished to gaze upon my magnificence."

"Indeed I did," Gareth said "And I must say, the stories pale in comparison to the real thing."

"Hmm, yes," the dragon said, unconvinced. "How strange a coincidence, a human bard appearing in my palace as an army of humans lays siege to our domain."

"Curious, isn't it" the bard chuckled, rising to his feet. "Funny old world, ain't it? What are the chances of it happening?"

"Indeed," Pe Riyuro said, his eyes narrowing to angry slits "Especially when strange, unnatural music had effected my warriors."

A tense, awkward silence fell upon the courtyard. The Dragon Lord and the dangerous Quagoa both glared daggers at the lone bard. The goblin in the loose fitting robes fidgeted nervously, his eyes darting from the dragon to the mole creature.

"Just who _are_ you?" Olasird'arc growled, rising to his full height "And what are you really doing here in my domain?"

"Like I said," Gareth said, his mouth quickly going dry. Judging from the way the two creatures moved and the violent riot of emotions radiating from them, the bard realized that he had officially overstayed his welcome. "I'm a humble bard, collecting songs and stories. Though, in truth, sometimes if a bard can't find a story, he makes his own!"

Just as Pe Riyuro attacked, the bard lifted his hands and cast **[Force]**, sending the mole creature flying backward across the courtyard and crashing through a pillar.

The White Dragon Lord reared back and unleashed a jet of supernaturally cold, blue flames at the bard. Gareth quickly reacted with a powerful barrier spell, **[Shield of the Seraphim]**. The flames crashed against the gold, glowing shield construct that enveloped the bard and washed over him like an ocean wave. Jagged waves of ice crackled into existence around the bard, slowly flowing outward and crawling all over the walls and dead plants closeby.

The bard searched for a way out and zeroed in on an open doorway to his left, far across the courtyard. It won't be easy but it was doable.

Gareth spied the dead trees and the wild tangle of weeds and thorny vines and got an idea.

"Come out, come out, sweet little morsel!" Olasird'arc roared "Come out and spill your secrets before I tear out your guts!"

"I'll pass, thank you very much" Gareth replied. Invoking another spell, **[Entangle]**, the bard gestured to the trees and plants closest to the enormous dragon and directed them toward his enemy. The bone dry, withered husks creaked into action. Their ancient, prickly branches and roots slithered to the dragon and wrapped themselves around the enormous creature. They quickly raced up his body, poking and prodding at the dragon's scaly armor, probing for a weakness.

Olasird'arc snarled angrily and thrashed about, momentarily breaking free, but the plants didn't let up. Soon thick, thorny roots and vines erupted from the stoney pavement below and enveloped the dragon's legs. Furious, the Dragon Lord unleashed his icy flames on the plants and violently tore himself free from their petrified grip.

Gareth acted. He disengaged his shield and sprinted for the exit. He didn't need to look back to know that the Dragon Lord was now free and extremely pissed off.

Through the doorway, Gareth sprinted through the palace, frantically searching for an exit. Behind him, a thunderous crash of stone and a deafening roar echoed through the palace, causing the very ground to shake beneath the bard's feet.

"There's nowhere to run!" the dragon bellowed.

"Run, run as fast as you can, you can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread man!" Gareth countered. It was a nonsensical reference and was the first thing to pop into his head. Although he wished very much he could teleport out of here, the bard still had a job to do. For all he knew, Lydia and the others were still in the palace. He had to stall for a little bit longer.

Glancing over his shoulder, Gareth's eyes widened when he saw the enormous dragon bounding after him, murder and bloody vengeance clear on his face.

The bard swore and pushed himself harder. The game of "keep the dragon away from the vault" was on.

* * *

Arche tapped her feat, anxiously waiting for the ancient dwarf to puzzle out the combination to the vault door. Marcus of the White Clovers and Lydia, Gareth's companion, waited patiently, sitting on the floor close to the vault door, keeping a patient eye on the hole in the ceiling and on the corridor leading out of there. Roberdyck, meanwhile, maintained a silent vigil in another corner of the chamber, clutching his amulet and wordlessly mouthing a prayer of protection for the group. It had been almost an hour since Gareth left, and so far, there didn't appear to be any progress.

The young mage held the ancient dwarf in high regard, but she was growing more anxious about her comrades - and about Gareth. He was currently somewhere in the upper floors with an immensely powerful dragon as their comrades fought for their lives to keep the Quagoa and dragon hordes at bay, and they have yet to breach the vault's front door.

"This is taking too long," Arche grumbled. "We have to go."

"Patience," Grolir soothed as he ran his hands along the surface of the immense metal door. "Acting in haste will lead to many mistakes. Have patience, I almost have it."

"You said that half an hour ago," the young mage sniffed. "Besides, Gareth may be dead or he might be telling the dragons everything."

"He's not dead," Lydia said, surprising Arche.

The young mage knew that the silver haired elf could talk, but she'd never heard her speak. She kept silent and aloof during the whole expedition, which was probably why Imina was distrustful and bitter toward Gareth. In both of their lives, they'd seen how the wealthy and powerful treated people, especially their elven slaves. They'd beat them, starve them, and trained them to be more "compliant." They follow their masters around, silent and dutiful. Better seen than heard. The two of them assumed Lydia was a slave and that Gareth was some noble making play at being an Adventurer. From what she's seen, however, Arche was beginning to doubt their initial assessment.

"What?" Arche asked.

"I said he's not dead," Lydia said firmly. "I know that he's alive, and I know that he has not given away our secrets."

"How do you know that?"

"Because we'd all be dead by now," Marcus answered bluntly.

The young mage paused. While she was reluctant to believe Lydia, Arche saw the logic in Marcus's words. Had Gareth been killed and if he had given away their position, they would've known it. The fact that they were still there, waiting for the old dwarf to unlock the vault in near perfect silence, spoke volumes.

"I suppose so," Arche said slowly.

"Besides," Lydia said with a confident smile. "There is no possible way that a dragon could kill Gareth."

Both Arche and Marcus gave the silver haired elf curious looks.

"Why's that?" the young mage asked.

Before Lydia could answer, Grolir hissed at them.

"I've done it!" the dwarf exclaimed gleefully, barely restraining his joy and keeping his voice at a low volume.

Lydia, Marcus and Roberdyck, rose and the three gathered with Arche behind Grolir as the ancient dwarf's hands slid about the surface of the vault door, touching the appropriate runes in the proper sequence. Each one he touched glowed blue and a soft click sounded from behind the door. When the final rune was touched, a loud clunk echoed in the air. The chamber began to rumble and shake as the enormous vault door slowly opened.

Grolir and the others watched in amazement as the door slid open, revealing a dark vast chamber. When Arche summoned an orb of light to illuminate the vault's interior, her eyes bulged at the sheer wealth before them. Stretching as far as the eye could see and beyond the meager light the orb provided were rolling mounds of gold coins, jewels, gilded artifacts, and other expensive items. The items glittered and shone, untouched by rust, age, or cobwebs. In the distance and in the darkness, Arche could see gold and valuables stacked high to the ceiling. The wealth accumulated within the vault was staggering. It would've taken countless lifetimes to calculate it. A very small portion of this trove would've been enough to pay off her parent's debt, and there'd be enough left over to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, even with her parent's reckless spending.

After doing a check for hidden traps and failsafes, the adventurers entered the vault and began searching for the warhammer amongst the sea of gold and jewels. The size of the vault and the volume of valuables made the search daunting. Fortunately, Grolir spied the ancient weapon very quickly. It stuck out of the top of a mound of coins and jeweled items like a banner planted on a captured hill. The warhammer glowed faintly, even in the light of the floating orb. Arche could feel great power emanating from the relic, and could see why Grolir was so set on retrieving it.

The warhammer was a head taller than the dwarf, with a large, heavy golden head with a hammer on one side and a curved spike on the back. A golden vine wound its way down the shaft, stopping at the handle. Etched into the hammer and the shaft were six runes, which seemed to glow with latent power.

The retrieval group approached it cautiously, as if they were trying to sneak up on it. Grolir stepped up to the weapon and pulled it free from the mound of treasure. The moment it was free, the Runesmith King's warhammer glowed brighter, and Arche felt a powerful pulse of magic burst from the weapon and washed over her like a wave. The hair on the back of her neck rose. The energy was warm, and oddly put her at ease.

Grolir inspected the weapon in his hands. Tears welled up in his eyes and a sense of awe and hope filled him. To Arche, it looked as though the old dwarf had found an old friend.

The tender moment was disrupted when they heard a mighty roar echo into the vault.

"Time to go," the old dwarf murmured, looking more alert and sober. He looked at each of his companions. "Take what you want, but not too much, you don't want to be weighed down."

Arche and the others nodded. The young mage quickly scooped a few handfuls of coins and jewels into her pack. Though she wished she could take more, the amount she grabbed was more than enough to ease her family's debt.

Another powerful roar shook the palace outside, signaling that their foray in the vault was at an end.

…

Grolir led Arche, Lydia, Roberdyck and Marcus back up to the palace proper. The ancient dwarf had bundled up the warhammer in some old blankets he brought along and slung it across his back. They had resealed the vault and carefully withdrew from the basement, making sure that they left no trace of their presence.

The four worked their way through the vast corridors of the palace, trying to find their way out and keeping out of sight. As they entered the entrance hall, a deafening roar and a thunderous crash sounded from their left.

Quickly, Grolir and his companions ducked behind one of the great pillars in the hall as a series of heavy thuds made their way toward the hall, each one causing the floor to quake.

"Come out, come out you little vermin!" a deep, commanding voice called out. His tone was laced with venom. "There is nowhere you can hide!"

Sweat began to bead up on Arche's brow. With a nudge from Marcus, the young mage quickly invoked the **[Invisibility]** spell. The quintet of thieves were quickly rendered invisible as the most terrifying looking dragon lumbered past them.

It took everything Arche had to keep from panicking. The dragon was large enough to gobble them all and still have more than enough room for a hundred more. It crawled by them, it's long neck slithered about like a serpent as he tried sniffing out his prey.

"I know you're here," the Dragon Lord hissed. "I know your scent, and I will pursue you to the ends of the earth and rip you to pieces."

The dragon paused and turned his head. His luminous blue eyes bore right into Arche's, right into her soul. The young mage felt a chill fill her body.

"Even if you hid yourself with magic" the dragon growled.

Arche cried out as the enormous blue dragon inhaled deeply and unleashed a frigid blast of glittering blue wind. The young mage felt like she was being pricked by thousands of needles. The invisibility spell melted away, rendering the party visible and vulnerable.

"There you are," the Dragon Lord purred, his eyes glowed brighter.

"Oh gods," Arche whimpered, sweat trickling down her face.

"You're new," the dragon observed, "Now this is a surprise. I knew I smelled human but a dwarf and an elf? Strange, I should've caught that. How did you…?"

The dragon paused as Grolir pulled the Runesmith king's warhammer from his back, pulled it free from its blanket covers and brandished it. A dangerous scowl was fixed on the old dwarf's face.

"Don't come any closer!" Grolir snarled.

"Where did you get that?" the dragon demanded, his words a low, dangerous growl. "Give that to me! It's mine!"

"It doesn't belong to you!" the dwarf snapped, taking a swing at the dragon. "It belongs to the Royal Family and to the Dwarf Kingdom!"

"The Royal Family!?" the dragon let out a barking laugh. "The Runesmith King is dead! His line was exterminated by the Demon Gods! The Dwarf Kingdom? Nothing more than a collection of scared, mewling pups and brittle old men wasting away in their pitiful strongholds, waiting to be slaughtered. Your time is done! Your disgusting little nation shall be no more, and _I_ shall rule these mountains as king!"

The dwarf roared angrily and charged at the dragon, warhammer in hand, and lept. The warhammer shined like a star as Grolir swung the weapon as hard as he could. Unfortunately, the Dragon Lord was quicker. His tail lashed out and swatted the old dwarf out of the air and into one of the pillars. The warhammer fell from his grip.

"Pathetic!" the dragon crowed. Spying the warhammer on the floor, glowing and pulsing with power, the dragon lumbered toward the hammer. Before he could reach it, Lydia raced past him like a silver blur and scooped up the hammer. She twirled it in her hands and leveled it at the dragon.

The White Dragon Lord paused and stared at the silver haired elf curiously.

"You think you can kill me?" he hissed. "Many have tried."

"I will, if you continue to be a nuisance," Lydia replied coolly.

Arche gaped at the elf while the dragon chuckled.

"Such defiance! If only the rest of your pitiful kind had such spirit. Maybe then they wouldn't have been beaten down by the Theocracy's army of zealots. Then again, with your so-called king, it's no wonder that you're losing that war."

"**[Martial Art: Thunder Strike!]**" Marcus cried, swinging his magically charged longsword in a wide arc on the dragon's leg, as if he were trying to chop down a tree. The blade struck home, but did nothing. His glittering blue scales didn't even look scratched.

The dragon's tail lashed out at the leader of the White Clovers, who managed to raise his sword in time, and invoked another Martial Art to boost his defense. The man was sent sliding backward a considerable distance and nearly toppled over. Blood trickled down from his nose, he huffed and weezed with effort.

"As I said," the dragon snorted. "Pathetic." He looked at Arche, who stood there, frozen in place.

"And what of you, little mage? Want to try your luck with your petty magic?"

The young mage, despite her experience and accomplishments, her talent and skill, it all felt meaningless. Before a dragon of his stature, a Dragon Lord, Arche was nothing more than a bug to a giant. What could she possibly do to stop or harm him?

"Nothing?" the dragon said, turning toward the petrified mage. "Such a pity. I had hoped you'd do something like your comrades. Squirm, squeal, struggle, beg even. It brings zest and entertainment in your final moments. No matter."

The Dragon Lord stomped toward Arche on all fours and snatched her up in his taloned hand. Although she was fully aware of her situation and her mind screamed at her body to move, her limbs refused to respond. At first she had attributed it to fear, but Arche had been in dangerous situations before and had overcome such fears. In the back of her mind, an old familiar voice spoke to her.

The young mage vaguely remembered this voice. It was from her time at the Imperial Magic Academy. Her memories of that time were hazy, but she remembered some useful tidbits on occasion. This voice belonged to one of her professors, a skilled wizard and a renowned Beast Tamer from the Imperial Menagerie. The man sported many scars and wounds and spoke with a rough, guttural voice. The voice in her head recounted his lesson on dragons, pointing out how some species of dragons hunted. He elaborated how some were able to use magic to ensnare and paralyze their victims with an overwhelming aura that instilled great fear, making it easier to capture and kill. The stronger the dragon, the more powerful the effect and since this was one of the fabled Dragon Lords…

_I'm going to die,_ Arche realized, her heart hammered away in her chest.

The great dragon lifted her high and he opened his great maw, giving the young mage a clear view down his throat. Images flashed through her mind, images of Hekkeran, of Imina, of her sisters, even of her parents. Roberdyck and Marcus attempted to rescue her, with the Templar casting spells to lessen the dragon's defenses and strength as Marcus slashed and chopped at the monster's legs. With a sweep of his tail, the dragon sent Arche's comrades flying. Lydia tended to Grolir, who was trying his best to stand but was forced to remain on his knees.

"How disappointing" the dragon snorted "I had hoped to catch myself a bard, but a middling mage will do."

_Oh gods!_ Arche moaned, screwing her eyes shut and prepared herself for the worst.

The young mage's senses filled with the horrid, rancid stench of the dragon's breath and she could hear Roberdyck scream at the dragon in rage, helpless to save his friend. Death was coming for her, and all she could do was hope that it was swift.

Just then, there was a blinding flash of light and a deafening shriek of pain, and Arche felt herself falling. The fall didn't last very long as she felt something, or rather someone, catch her.

"I got you," a familiar voice spoke.

Arche opened her eyes and saw the kind, grinning face of Gareth the Bard.

"Gareth?" the mage exclaimed. "H-How?"

"Sorry about that, but a hero always waits for the right time to make his entrance," the bard informed her coolly. "There's an art to these sorts of things. It makes stories more impactful."

Looking around, Arche saw that the two of them were floating high above the ground. The Dragon Lord thrashed about, screaming and clawing at his face, sizzling steam rising from his eyes. Arche blinked in amazement. Her mind reeled at how close she was to dying and how she was still alive. Part of her was convinced that she was dead or dreaming, but the way she felt warm and safe in the bard's arms said otherwise.

"Time to get going," Gareth stated and the two landed on the floor. He set Arche down. The young mage stood, her knees wobbled a little, but she felt control and strength returning to her limbs.

Lydia appeared beside Gareth, carrying Grolir in her arms. The old dwarf looked dizzy and was nursing a nasty bruise. Marcus and Roberdyck arrived not long after.

"Go out through the way we came in," Gareth told Lydia. "The path is clear, Damien and Jinx are holding their own, but I suspect that the Quagoa will be back very soon. I'll try and slow the blizzard lizard down."

Lydia nodded and hurried toward the exit with Marcus close behind her. Roberdyck followed, but paused when he saw Arche hesitate.

"But what about you?" the young mage asked.

"I'll be right behind you," Gareth promised her. "but someone's got to slow this guy down."

"Let me help you!"

The bard gave Arche a warm smile. "I appreciate the offer but trust me, you don't want to be here when the dragon recovers. Just stick to the plan and everything will be fine."

"But-" Arche began, but stopped when she saw the blue dragon stop thrashing and began sniffing the air. The burning, sizzling wounds that were his eyes were slowly but surely healing.

"Bard…" the dragon hissed. "Finally worked up the courage to face me?"

"Yep," Gareth quipped. "That's right, big boy. I'm here, and I'm not alone."

He winked at Arche and raised his hand. A yellow magic circle appeared above his hand, and all around them dozens of identical copies of Gareth appeared out of thin air.

Although Arche wanted to stay, the young mage knew that she would only get in the way. She turned and hurried after Roberdyck and the two raced after the rest of their party. As they raced down the steps leading up to the palace, Arche silently uttered a prayer for the bard, hoping he survived.

...

Outside the palace, Arche and Roberdyck managed to catch up to Lydia and Marcus, who had taken shelter in one of the numerous ruins that made up the old market district.

Grolir was lying on the ground with the silver haired elf at his side, kneeling and casting a healing spell over him. The old dwarf's body glowed, and Arche was surprised to see how quickly his wounds were remedied. She'd seen some potent healing potions and spells, but none were nearly as effective as Lydia's spell.

"There you go," Lydia said, helping the old dwarf sit up. "All better?"

"Aye, thank you lass," Grolir said, rubbing his head. He stopped and looked around "The hammer…"

"Right here," the elf said, holding it up for him to see.

Relieved, the dwarf asked for it back, and the elf relinquished it to his care. Grolir hugged the glowing, golden weapon close to him, afraid that he might lose it if he didn't.

"What now?" Marcus asked.

"Now, we leave," Lydia said, rising to her feet.

"What about Gareth?" Arche asked. "Shouldn't we wait?"

"No, that will be unwise," the elf girl said in an unusually calm voice. She walked over to the doorway and peered out. "L...Gareth is correct. I sense movement nearby, Quagoa and plenty of them. They must've heard the commotion in the palace. Very soon they'll swarm the area. If we stay, we will be discovered."

"How do you know that?" Roberdyck asked, curious.

"I can sense them," Lydia answered plainly. "The vibrations in the ground, the energy in the air, I can feel them coming. The way out is still clear. We must go."

"But…" Arche began to protest, but stopped.

The logic in Lydia's words was sound, and Arche's experience and instincts agreed. Workers had to know when to cut their losses. There were also times where a Worker has to make sacrifices for the good of the party. Gareth was making a serious gamble that was practically suicide. While she wanted to go back and help, maybe even wait and hope for him to catch up, but deep down, she knew that he wouldn't want that. He stayed behind so they could have a chance to escape.

After a few moments, Arche nodded. The party was on the move once more. Grolir led them through the maze of burnt out buildings and ruins, carefully keeping to the shadows and working their way back toward the passage that led back to the rallying point with the general's expedition.

Every once in a while, Arche threw a hopeful glance back over her shoulder, back toward the palace. The immense structure loomed large in the dark distance, looking like it was still very near, when in reality they were almost halfway to the exit.

She caught a glimpse of a bright yellow flash, which was followed by a roar echoing through the dark. Arche paused and tried to see what might've happened, but silence and darkness was all that was there. Roberdyck placed a hand on her shoulder. He gave her a look of sympathy, but he urged her onward. She continued with heavy reluctance.

They were getting closer to the stairs that led up the cliffs toward the exit, but before they could reach them, two large shadows stepped into view.

"Well, well, well," hissed one of the shadows, the voice nasal and whiny. "What do we have here?"

"Some lost little runts," growled the second, this one sounding scratchy.

Grolir and the others came to a stop. Hearing some scratching sounds and clatter, Arche looked around and saw some movement in the dark. They were surrounded.

The old dwarf gripped the warhammer and it began to glow brighter, revealing that the ones blocking their way were Quagoa. Arche grimaced, as these ones looked hideous. Their elongated, furry faces were covered in hideous scars. Their eyes were wet and red, almost as if they were weeping. The young mage noticed that their fur was a smokey grey color. General Zirdam had mentioned that those with uniquely colored fur were said to be stronger and more clever than the average. She saw ones with red and blue fur, acting as field commanders back at the bridge at the Rift.

What role did these particular creatures play in Quagoa society?

"Could be the ones that the Clan Lord had warned us about," the second mole suggested to the first.

"Could be," the first agreed with a nasty smile.

"Let us pass," Grolir snarled, "or taste my wrath!"

"Oh look, there's even a dwarf," the first Quagoa sneered. "I _like_ dwarves, especially the old ones. I love how their brittle bones snap and crack when they break!"

"Not me," the second shook his head. "Too feeble, too weak. I like them a tad younger. They put up more of a fight. Always good sport in it."

All around them, in the darkness, there were some mutters of agreement and some gleeful giggling. Roberdyck kept Arche close and searched the darkness. He brought forth his mace and began muttering a prayer. Marcus drew his blade and readied for the inevitable. Lydia, meanwhile, looked as serene as ever. She took a deep breath and assumed a fighting stance.

"Clan Lord said to retrieve the hammer," said the first, "and _one_ of the thieves. Didn't seem to care about the rest."

"How about a snack?" the second suggested. "Then we can take the survivor and the hammer back to the Clan Lord and the Dragon Lord?"

"Excellent!" the first giggled.

Arche's heart raced, and as the shadowy figures drew close, a bright and powerful light burst into existence, filling the entire underground valley. Shrill screams and anguished cries filled the air as the darkness was banished.

All around them, Arche saw their would-be attackers. Over a dozen large, grey furred Quagoa, all bearing hideous scars and wounds, were trying to shield their eyes, screaming in pain and writhing at the sudden appearance of this bright light.

Shielding her eyes, the young mage sought out the source and saw that it was coming from the palace. The light filled every window and poured out through every opening like a flood. The light was warm and brilliant, like the sun at noonday. Strangely, in this dark underground world filled with death and misery, it filled her and the rest of her comrades with hope. Before she could ponder who or what may be making that light, Arche heard a loud clang, and a wet, sickening crunch.

Spinning around, she saw Grolir take advantage of their foe's confusion and blindness. He knocked aside the first Quagoa with a single swing of the hammer and crushed the skull of the second with another.

Lydia moved like the wind and brought down two more moles, who tried to block their path, with a series of furious and deadly punches. Bones cracked loudly and teeth were sent flying. One lashed out, blindly swiping with its large, razor sharp claws, only for the slender elf to catch hold of its arm and break it with a single strike.

With the path clear and the brilliant light beginning to fade, Grolir bellowed at the others to run, and everyone did just that. The Adventurers and Workers clambered up the stone steps, no longer caring about being seen or destroying the stairs. Fortunately, everyone made it to the cliff tops, and Grolir destroyed the stairs with a single strike of his warhammer.

As the group raced toward the secret passage and to freedom, Arche threw one last look toward the palace. She wondered what that light was and hoped that Gareth was safe. A strange thought popped into her mind and she instantly dismissed it. For a moment there, she thought that the source of that light was the bard.

Arche scoffed at the idea.

Grolir opened the secret door once more, and the party hurried inside and sealed the door behind them.

* * *

The last of the tanks and Sentinels fell silent as the remnants of the Quagoa hordes retreated back into the darkness. Though they could still reach their foes, Damien ordered his creations to stand down.

A ragged cheer was raised among the weary and battle-worn expedition, and Hekkeran heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

The fatigued swordsman plopped to the ground, swords still gripped tightly in his hands. Throughout the whole ordeal, the leader of Foresight was worried that they were done for, that he was going to die in these wretched tunnels, torn to pieces by a horde of ravenous beastmen. However, it was thanks largely in part to Damien's creations and his beautiful subordinates, Caitlyn and Vi, that so many of the expedition still lived.

The blond swordsman had to admit that if it weren't for Kane, the pale assassin of the Good Companions, he wouldn't have survived.

The ambush tactic worked as planned, though the Quagoa seemed to have caught on and very quickly pushed the expedition members and the Sentinels back to the crossroads by the giant statues. The tanks formed a protective circle and poured shell after shell and continuous streams of gunfire on the Quagoa.

Damien and General Zirdam directed their forces as they held their ground. Damien's Sentinels fought alongside the mages and rangers in the expedition. Though the Quagoa kept pouring in, the defenders fought on, never letting up.

Some of the beastmen managed to slip past their defenses, tunnelling under the tanks, and caused some havoc behind their lines. Kane's group rushed to aid their comrades.

The beastmen's resistance and defense to metal made them difficult to kill, but they managed. Hekkeran thought about Kane and Randor. The two were death incarnate. The dwarf was a fireball of wrath and rage, while Kane was a whirlwind of shadow and violence.

One of the Quagoa tried sneaking up on Hekkeran from behind while he was distracted by the display of their prowess, but the pale assassin hurled a rock at such a speed and with such force that it ripped through the creature's skull, leaving a large, bloody hole that allowed one to see right through to the other side.

Hekkeran offered a shaky thanks.

Kane shrugged "No problem. Just stay focused and keep your head in the game!"

The blond swordsman nodded and fought on.

Now that the battle was over, he sat on the ground, gasping for breath and allowed his tired, aching limbs to rest. The air reeked of death, sweat, and metal. Damien and the general directed their respective forces in the aftermath of the battle.

General Zirdam had his men help recover whatever remains that were left in the tunnels and provide medical aid. Meanwhile, Damien directed his Clockwork Sentinels in recovering their fallen comrades and, curiously, some of the corpses of the Quagoas.

"Here," Imina said, offering him a healing potion. Her face was covered in sweat and grime.

"Thanks," Hekkeran croaked, accepting it. A few gulps of the blue liquid, and he felt the fatigue slowly fade with the cuts and sores he earned in the fighting. His parched throat also felt cooled and sated.

"Do you think Arche and Roberdyck are okay?" the half-elf archer asked.

"Hope so."

"When do you think-?"

"General!" a voice cried out.

The two looked and saw one of General's knights pointing toward one of the giant statues. Hekkeran stood and saw Grolir, the white haired dwarf, emerge from an opening in the statue. He leaned against a tall, mighty looking warhammer, which glowed with a golden aura. Behind him were Lydia, the elf, Marcus of the Clovers, and, finally, Arche and Roberdyck.

Relief overcame Hekkeran and Imina, who both rushed to their comrades' side.

The young mage looked glum and very pale.

"Arche!" Imina cried, throwing her arms around the young girl.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Hekkeran asked.

"We're fine," Roberdyck said, sighing with relief and wiping away a layer of sweat from his brow. "We have returned from our mission."

"What happened?" Imina asked, releasing Arche from her hug.

"A long tale for another time," the Templar said, fatigue becoming more apparent on his bearded face. "For now, know that we have accomplished what we had set out to do."

"Where's Gareth?" Kane asked.

The members of Foresight looked, and saw the black clad assassin standing there, worry etched on his marble features.

"Where is my brother?" the pale man asked again, his voice grew harsh.

Arche felt her heart drop into her stomach. Gareth was Kane's brother? She didn't realize this connection but it made so much sense now.

"He...he…" Arche began, struggling for words, not meeting the assassin's dark eyes.

"He gave himself up...to buy us time to escape," Grolir answered, smoothing out his bushy white beard.

The pale man's face was an emotionless mask, but Hekkeran saw his hands tightening into fists. After a few moments of silence, the assassin dipped his head.

"Well…" he said finally, his night black eyes slid to Arche then to Roberdyck, "I'm glad that you made it back alive. And it looks like you got your hammer. Nice…" The pale man nodded at Grolir before he walked away.

Hekkeran watched him go, and, in the distance, saw him angrily kick aside the corpse of a bloated Quagoa, sending it sliding through the dirt a little. The swordsman sympathized with the assassin. It wasn't easy to lose people, especially if they were family members. He wished he could say something, do something, to assure and comfort the man, but the leader of Foresight eventually decided to let Kane be.

Lydia bid them farewell all farewell and trotted after the pale assassin.

After a few moments of silence, Imina looked to Arche.

"He...really did that?" she asked.

The young mage nodded.

Imina's lips tightened into a line and a shameful look flickered across her features. The whole time the archer was absolutely certain that Gareth was just some sleazy noble who got lucky or used his influence to pretend to be an adventurer to gain glory and gold for himself. She had seen it before, dozens of times. Spoiled rich boys becoming "adventurers" on their family's coin, prancing about in relative safety, taking difficult jobs and making others do the dirty work while they earned the praise. However, it quickly became apparent that her initial assessment was horrendously wrong.

As the rest of the party were welcomed back by the General and the others of the expedition, Imina and Hekkeran couldn't help but ponder the fate of Gareth Silvertongue, and whether or not he still lived.

* * *

Gareth burst through the doorless opening and sprinted across the ruined courtyard gardens once more, searching for a new avenue of escape.

Once Lydia and the others had fled the palace, the bard and his **[Illusion]** copies distracted him by running and hiding all over the palace, occasionally nettling him and spurring him onward. Olasird'arc quickly burned and destroyed the illusions, a little quicker than Gareth had anticipated, and was now pursuing the last three through the cavernous halls of the ancient palace.

While a significant portion of himself screamed to run and hide, oddly enough there was something in the back of the bard's mind urging him to stay and fight. This strange part of his mind was confident that he could crumple this overgrown lizard like it was a paper bag, but the rational part of Gareth wasn't so sure. It was a big freaking dragon! A real, living creature with actual magic. He still wasn't confident enough to chance direct confrontation with it. If it were exactly like the Frost Dragons back in Yggdrasil, there was a chance Gareth would be a popsicle in a manner of minutes. And yet…

That peculiar, confident part of him remained, persistently whispering in his ear to stand his ground, to show that dragon who's the real boss around here, and to make it pay for the suffering he had inflicted on humans, dwarves, and who knows how many others for who knows how long.

Gareth shook his head. He had to focus. He had to escape.

The bard skidded to a halt and looked around and selected one of the four doorways leading back into the palace. Inside, he sprinted through empty galleries, passed empty chambers and rooms. He raced up and down stairs, searching for a tunnel or a way to get out of the palace and slip back into the old market district. From there, Gareth could make his way back to the secret tunnel. Maybe. If not, he could try using **[Gate]**. Yep, that's it. In fact…

Gareth came to a stop. Why doesn't he try it now?

Feeling foolish, the bard focused on the secret tunnel, how it smelled, how it felt to be there, and he drew upon the power he felt within himself.

"**[Gate]**" the bard intoned, raising a hand before him.

Nothing happened.

Frowning, Gareth tried again and yielded the same result.

He tried five more times and even tried focusing on other locations. Nothing. No portal opened.

"Come on," the bard whined. "Work, damn it!"

"There you are!" a booming voice declared.

Gareth turned around and was just in time to see the dragon's tail collide into him, knocking him into the dusty, stone wall behind him. Strangely enough, the tail strike didn't hurt nearly as much as he had expected it to. In fact, it felt like someone had just pushed him.

The bard pushed himself up off the ground and saw Olasird'arc, and this time, he wasn't alone.

To Gareth's right there was another light blue dragon. This one was slightly smaller than the Dragon Lord and though it tried to look big and intimidating, the dragon didn't look like it wanted to be there. To his left, there was a considerable force of goblins in rusty old armor and grey furred Quagoa, led by the golden furred Pe Riyuro.

"Enough games," growled the Dragon Lord, his luminous blue eyes were now red and were slowly regaining their natural color and status. Pus and blood dribbled from the corners like tears, giving him a menacing appearance. "You have nowhere to run."

"Okay, you got me!" Gareth smiled, holding his hands up in surrender. "I surrender."

"Allow me the honor of interrogating the intruder!" Pe Riyuro asked Olasird'arc. "I can make him tell us every secret he has. For his crimes of trespassing and for the sake of my fallen warriors, I _will _make him scream for death!"

"An excellent idea!" Olasird'arc declared.

"But father-" the smaller dragon began.

"Silence, Hejinmal!" Olasird'arc snapped, causing his son to flinch and go silent.

Gareth swallowed hard and forced himself to think hard and fast. His mind raced as his eyes darted about for an escape. The bard finally saw his way out. Behind Hejinmal was a doorway that looked like it led outside. Now, to give the dragons the slip.

"Before you, I don't know, rip me to pieces and torture me," Gareth began, his hand drifting up toward the teardrop of silver hanging around his neck. "I will answer you one question."

Both the Clan Lord and the Dragon Lord stared at the bard in confusion.

"You had asked me who I am? Well, allow me to show you," Gareth said, removing his pendant and putting it in his pocket.

The moment the words left his lips, the bard concentrated, and released the spell that concealed his true form. Immediately, Gareth assumed his true, angelic form and filled the corridor and the rest of the palace with blinding, celestial light. The Quagoa screamed and stumbled backwards, their eyes on fire. Olasird'arc roared and unleashed a blast of icy flames.

Gareth did nothing to stop it. The confident part of him was now in control. Whatever fears he had were now gone, and in its place was power and a feeling of invincibility. He allowed the flames to wash over him. He quickly became encased in ice, but with a gesture, the angel broke free, sending shards of ice flying in every direction. The Dragon Lord snarled, and tried to lunge at the angel in an attempt to rip him to pieces with his teeth and talons.

Raising one of his hands, Gareth forced the dragon to stop and held him in place. No matter how much he struggled, Olasird'arc couldn't move.

"W-who are you?!" the White Dragon Lord demanded. "_What_ are you?"

The angel gave the dragon a divine smile that sent a shock of fear right into his cold, icy heart.

"Someone who isn't afraid of you anymore," the angel said, speaking with three voices. "Someone who will show you mercy one last time."

With a wave of his hand, the angel sent the dragon lord crashing through the wall to his left. Rubble and dust quickly buried the fallen dragon. The goblins and Quagoa squeaked in surprise and began to blindly scatter, bumping into one another and into whatever was in their way. Pe Riyuro trembled in fear. His wide, horrified eyes watered and rolled back as the proud Clan Lord fainted, overwhelmed by what he saw.

The angel felt a smidgen of pity for them and for Hejinmal, who was cowering beneath his wings like a newborn dragon. Somehow, he knew full well that he could do anything to them. Nothing could stand in his way and nothing could stop him. Nothing could hurt him. Although his size hadn't changed significantly, the angel felt like a giant compared to his foes. If he wanted to, Gareth could vaporize these vile beasts and claim ownership of the palace, of the mountains themselves. Hell, if he wanted, he could expand far beyond the mountains. With the power that coursed through his veins, Gareth could make all things bow to him and those who did, he could eliminate with a mere thought. But he couldn't. He shouldn't. That wasn't in his nature. That's not who he was. He just wanted to go home, he wanted to see his brother and friends again.

The angel turned and glided away. He flew past Hejinmal, not giving the dragon a second glance and went to the opening at the end of the corridor. Gareth lowered himself to the floor. The bard's great, feathery wings wrapped themselves around him and, in a final burst of white, celestial light, assumed his human disguise once more. The bard slipped the pendant back around his neck and proceeded through the doorway.

Through the opening, Gareth was in a small, tranquil garden. The plants were long dead and all that remained were the patches of earth that once held flowers, shrubbery, and trees. High, thick walls surrounded the garden, blocking out any sound and sight of what lay beyond, and any hope of escape.

The bard sighed in disappointment. Although he moved to search for a new way out, something kept him from leaving. Something tugged at him, called to him, asking him to stay. Gareth looked about and then cautiously stepped into the garden. Barren and silent, there wasn't really anything in the garden, save for dirt and some old stone benches.

Gareth supposed he could try hopping over the wall or flying out in his true form but knew that that wouldn't work. Still, there was something in this garden that called out to him.

After a brief search, Gareth eventually came to a section of the wall, positioned directly across from the doorway. Underneath a layer of brittle old vines and dust, the bard uncovered a ring of runes etched into the stone. He ran his fingers along the surface of the wall, brushing dust away from the runes. The runes began to glow and hum with magic.

The bard focused on the runes and tried to use his Class's ability to decipher the meanings of the runes but the symbols refused to be translated. Frustrated, Gareth wanted to throw up his hands or punch the wall into powder, but he held himself back and forced himself to puzzle out how these runes worked and why he was drawn to this place. A peculiar thought occurred to the bard. He placed both hands on the circle of runes and they immediately glowed.

A gust of wind filled the garden and the bard immediately felt like he was being sucked down a large drain and the world around him changed in a dark blur. The wind died, and the bard found himself standing in complete darkness.

"Okay…" Gareth said aloud, his voice echoed. "Now what?"

The bard conjured an orb of light, and discovered that he was in a long, dark tunnel of rock. Looking backward and forward, Gareth was unsure which way he should proceed, until he heard something coming from a distance before him. With no other choice, the bard shrugged and walked toward the sound, with only the orb of light to guide him.

Gareth walked for a considerable amount of time until he eventually saw a pinprick of light ahead of him. Hope surged through him and the bard picked up the pace. Finally, he found the exit! Fresh air and freedom!

The bard ran and the light grew closer, brighter and bigger, until eventually he reached it.

To his disappointment, Gareth found that he wasn't outside. Instead, the bard found himself in a spacious underground chamber. The ceiling arched high above and the walls were smooth like concrete. Large clusters of crystals and lichen provided more than enough light to see what occupied the chamber.

Off to one side was a large wooden chest, reminiscent of something Gareth had seen many times in Yggdrasil. Scattered about, littering the floor, were at least a dozen skeletons, all clad in ancient, rusty armor. Some held the handles of swords whose blades long since turned to dust, others had spearheads, maces and arrowheads. To the bard, it looked as if there was a battle of sorts and there was no clear indication as to who won, who lost, and who fought in it.

What drew the bard's gaze was the stone casket on the raised dias directly in front of him, on the other side of the ancient battlefield. The casket was long and made of smooth white stone, which glowed in the ambient light of the chamber.

Feeling curious and seeing as how there really was nowhere else to go, Gareth entered the chamber. He carefully navigated his way through the field of skeletons and approached the casket. A part of Gareth expected the skeletons to jump up and attack, like in Yggdrasil, but much to his relief, the skeletons remained where they were, silent and still.

At the dais, the bard inspected the casket. Carved into the lid were some symbols, some of which looked similar to symbols and icons he saw on the parchment Marcus showed him regarding General Zirdam's job back in Arven.

The symbols flickered and became partially translated, much like Marcus's parchment.

"_Here lies the greatest knight in all the land,_" Gareth read aloud. "_A true friend to all dwarfkind, beloved by many, a true hero through and through. Selfless, brave and true..._" The remainder of the inscription was garbled, including the name, leaving the person's identity forever a mystery, unless Gareth could bring someone back to translate the rest of this. The last readable part of the inscription lingered in his mind, and caused the bard to reflect. He had heard those words in that order before, long ago. But where? Also, "greatest knight in all the land"? Well that could be anybody.

Gareth shrugged, dismissing those thoughts immediately. He had larger concerns at the moment.

The bard placed a hand on the casket and apologized for intruding, and turned toward the large wooden chest that sat close by.

The tomb was austere and had no other visible entrances and exits. Gareth invoked a few spells to ferret out any hidden exits, traps, or anything that could help him.

The only thing that his spells picked up on was the magical lock placed on the wooden chest. Gareth raised an eyebrow and decided to search the chest, even though he wasn't comfortable with the idea of looting a dead person's chest of possessions.

Disabling the magical lock on the chest, the chest's lid popped open. Opening the lid further, Gareth discovered that there wasn't as much as he had thought. Either the deceased didn't have much, or someone else had already raided this place.

Inside the chest was a folded square of white and blue cloth. Beside it was a leather pouch, some books, and, curiously, an Yggdrasil item.

Gareth reached into the chest and pulled the item out and inspected it in the light. The item was a shabby looking doll made of rough looking cloth. Stitched into its large, lumpy head was a deep, eerie frown. One eye was a black, shiny button and the other was two lines of thread, stitched into "X". A clump of straw poked out of its head, giving the illusion of hair. Overall, it was a lousy looking toy. Despite its ratty appearance, the bard could feel dark, malevolent energy emanating from the doll, which made him feel queasy.

"Now what are you doing here?" the bard asked the doll, staring into its button and thread eyes. He knew exactly what this item was. He didn't need to use the **[Item Appraisal]** spell to know that the doll in his hand was a Cursed Totem.

Gareth had dealt with his fair share of these little wretched things. Cursed Totems were, going by the name, cursed items. Whoever owned or held it could overpower and disable the magic of those he or she deemed an enemy. Useful for preventing enemies from escaping or dropping in on a private meeting. Even more useful in case of ambushes. Cursed Totems weren't very common. They were rare item drops, usually found in high level dungeons. It was possible to make one, though it took time and high quality materials. Costly, but it was well worth the protection and power the doll brought.

Turning the doll over in his hands. The doll looked well made and the magic felt very potent. The bard frowned and pondered how an Yggdrasil item like this ended up in an underground crypt like this, especially in the tomb of purportedly the "greatest knight in all the land." In a different world, no less. Questions filled Gareth's mind, but he couldn't make head or tails as to what this could mean. Still, he now knew what may have prevented him from using **[Gate]**. These freaky dolls had quite a range on them.

Not wanting to leave a dangerous item like this alone and wanting to study it further, Gareth lifted the doll and placed it in his Inventory. The doll vanished in a puff of black smoke, transporting it to the pocket dimension that contained his various weapons and tools that he kept in reserve, just in case. He'd keep it in his bag but the bard knew that the doll's magic would still be in effect unless he placed it in his Inventory.

The moment the doll entered his Inventory, the queasiness that Gareth felt vanished and he felt a shift in the air. He couldn't quite explain it, but he could tell that the change was a good one, almost as if he removed something evil and dangerous. The bard delved back into the chest and inspected its contents. The books turned out to be written in a language similar to the one on the casket, and the square of cloth, once unfolded, turned out to be a banner. A strange blue sigil on a field of white, the symbol was foreign to Gareth, but maybe there was someone who could tell him what it meant. He placed the banner and books in his bag and procured the final item.

The small leather pouch. Small and ordinary looking, it gave him a funny feeling just by picking it up. Opening the drawstring and pouring out its contents, a single ring fell into his palm. A cold and uneasy feeling washed over Gareth, and he knew right away that the ring was the source of it.

Holding it up to the light the bard inspected it. The ring was made of a black, shiny metal. Set into the band was an orange gemstone the size of a pea. Within the gemstone was a symbol of sorts. It was an intricate, gothic looking symbol that reminded Gareth of a crown. Or was it a skull? It was very different from the one on the banner, which meant that the ring belonged to someone else. Was it a war trophy of sorts? How old was this thing and what is it?

This time, Gareth used the **[Item Appraisal]** spell, and what the spell brought only produced more questions. In his mind, these words flickered: _Ring of the Infernal Tyrant. Item Type: Dark, Class: ?, Level: ?, Description/Function: ?, Other: Very dangerous. Last resort. _

The bard let out a long sigh. This day just keeps getting better and better.

Although the spell failed to shed any further light on the ring in his hand, Gareth couldn't help but feel as though he should know this ring. He'd seen his fair share of rings in Yggdrasil and a few stood out in his memories, but it's been a long time since he was last in the game and his memory has grown rather hazy. Regardless, something in his gut told him that he had seen this ring once. But where?

After wracking his mind for minutes, Gareth eventually gave up. Maybe Damien will know. The bard deposited the item in his inventory. The cold, uneasy feeling vanished as well and the air felt clear once again.

Now, to get out of here.

Since his spells failed to find any hidden entrances and exits, Gareth figured that maybe he should go out the way he came and follow the tunnel in the other direction. Maybe he went further underground and the other way led up to the surface. Well, here goes nothing.

The bard departed the crypt, but not before apologizing to the unknown knight in the casket.

Summoning the orb of light once more, Gareth set off down the tunnel, heading in back where he came from. He walked for an unknown amount of time, following the tunnel, with seemingly no end in sight until eventually he felt a gust of whistling wind hit his face.

This is it, this is the exit. This time for sure!

And it was!

The tunnel brought Gareth outside, where it was bright and sunny. Before him was an endless expanse of greenery and foliage. Behind him, the bard saw that he was in the foothills of a towering snow capped mountain range. The Azerlisia Mountains. Was he back in Baharuth? Was he anywhere close to Arven? One way to find out.

Gareth sighed, and decided to try his luck in the forest. Maybe he could find a road on the other side or maybe something that could help him get his bearings.

The bard adjusted his cloak and made sure that he still had his cap. He took a step forward and paused. A strange feeling came over him, forcing him to glance backwards. To his surprise, Gareth saw that the tunnel was gone. In its place were rocks and shrubbery.

"Of course," Gareth muttered under his breath. "Could this day get any weirder?"

With that he set off into the woods.

…

The sun was high in the sky and the air was warm and humid. Gareth adjusted his cap and smoothed out his hair. Although he was beginning to feel tired and uncomfortably warm, the bard was at least grateful that he was out of the mountains and above ground. The thought of being lost in the labyrinthine maze of tunnels far underground, hunted by vicious mole men made Gareth shudder.

A breeze swept through the forest, causing the trees to sway and sigh. Gareth pushed through the tangled underbrush and came to a stop beside a trickling stream. There wasn't much around save for the stream, some wild flowers that grew along the banks of the stream and a large boulder.

Feeling tired, Gareth decided to take a break and get a drink.

The bard produced an empty flask from his bag and filled it in the stream. He sniffed it and checked it for poisons with magic. Satisfied that the water was just that, Gareth took a drink. The water was cool and refreshing, perfect for a warm and humid day like this.

Gareth refilled and drank from the river two more times and sat down on the boulder. He closed his eyes and allowed the breeze to wash over him and listened to the distant sounds of birds.

He'd been in this new world for a week and a half, and yet, he still can't get over the sights, sounds, and feel of nature.

Back home, it was an endless landscape of cold, bleak grey and neon. Very few, specifically those with cash to burn, could get a taste of something reminiscent of this. However, Gareth doubted that even those special little corners of nature paled in comparison to this. Everything here felt _alive_. Back home, it felt old and on life support with a very slim, faint hope of ever recovering.

A soft humming floated on the breeze and entered the bard's ears. Gareth opened his eyes and looked about. The humming was sad and mournful and belonged to a woman. The bard listened to the unseen woman's song. It was beautiful and...strangely familiar.

He frowned and looked around until he saw, across the stream and down a little, a dark figure kneeling by the stream. The bard stared and could make out a woman with long, pitch black hair and pale flesh but not much else. She knelt in the shade of one of the trees close to the stream.

"Hello?" Gareth called out. "Excuse me?"

The woman didn't move and seemed to pay him no heed. She continued humming, only this time the song grew sadder and shaky, eventually devolving into weeping.

The bard approached the woman, following the stream toward her.

The woman's song was over and now she was just weeping and muttering. A long, thick curtain of raven hair hid her face from him but the bard could see tears falling into the stream.

"Are you alright?" Gareth asked when he reached the woman. She was kneeling a few feet away from him, across the stream. "Do you need help?"

"Lost…" the woman said, her voice soft and airy, almost a whisper. "All lost…"

"Are you lost?" Gareth asked, feeling a little uneasy. "That's ok, I suppose. I'm lost too."

The woman kept her head low and her face hidden. The bard stood there, a sense of awkwardness growing as the woman seemed to have stopped weeping and was now breathing slowly and heavily.

"What's your name?" Gareth asked, hoping to break the awkward silence and maybe get a conversation going. "My name is Gareth."

"All gone now…" the woman breathed. "They're all gone."

"I'm sorry?"

"They're all gone. Their fall was great and terrible, and yet could've been easily avoided."

Gareth didn't like where this was going. His hand drifted toward _Nightbane_'s pommel and began to inch away from the strange woman.

The woman stirred, Gareth stopped.

Looking up, the woman looked at Gareth, though from the look in her dark, dull eyes, she might as well have been looking right through him.

"Where has he gone?" the woman asked aloud "Where has my love gone?"

"You're looking for your love?" Gareth asked, growing more confused by the second.

The woman, surprisingly, nodded. "So fair and kind was he, yet I was cold and cruel. He had nothing and yet he could've given me everything I needed, I who had everything and yet nothing."

_Okayyyy~_ the bard said in his mind. _This chick is a few sandwiches short of a full picnic_.

"Please sir" the woman pleaded, her eyes more alert now. "Do you know where he may have gone? Have you seen him? A man as fair and warm as the sun? A man who possessed the heart of a true hero?"

"Can't say that I have," Gareth chuckled nervously, giving her a smile. "But I'll be sure to tell you if I see him."

The woman frowned at him. A curious look crossed her pale features. "Do I know you, sir?"

"What? No! No, no, I-I just got one of those faces. A common mistake."

"Wait" the woman said, rising to her feet, and Gareth began to take greater strides backward as he noticed a dark violet, almost black, aura appear around the pale woman.

"Wait!" the woman cried. "Don't go!"

Gareth turned to run, but stopped when the bushes in front of him began to tremble and rustle. The air grew very still, with only the sound of the trickling stream behind him could be heard. The bushes rustled and moved again and Gareth's fingers wrapped themselves around the grip of his sword. Sweat began to bead on his brow. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place.

Which would he choose to face? The strange and crazy woman with the aura, or some unknown beast lurking beyond the bushes?

He could try running left or right but either way, the unknown beast and the woman could easily chase him down.

Eventually, Gareth rather gamble on what lay ahead rather than deal with a strange, crying, glowing woman.

"Bring it on," the bard muttered under his breath.

The bushes rustled some more and a shape emerged from the underbrush.

A fluffy brown rabbit hopped into view. It paused, its nose twitching and sniffing the air. An immense sense of relief filled the bard. He began to laugh. That's what he was worried about? It was ridiculous, not to mention cliche.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw that the strange, pale woman was gone without a trace.

Laughing some more, Gareth figured that maybe his luck had finally turned. Maybe things will get better.

Suddenly, a large, dark shape burst from the bushes, roaring loudly and angrily. It was on Gareth in an instant and the bard suddenly found himself standing perfectly still, staring into the slit of a knight's visored helmet.

The figure was a mountain of a man in full plate armor. The armor was night black and trimmed with gold. A great, crimson cape hung from his shoulders, reaching down to his ankles. A pair of great swords were positioned dangerously close to either side of his bare throat, threatening to behead him if he made a wrong move.

Very quickly, Gareth's laughter turned awkward and became almost blubbering.

"Who are you?" demanded the armored knight.

"G-Gareth S-Silvertongue sir!" the bard squeaked, genuinely surprised and frightened. He didn't see where this guy came from, let alone sensed him. Then again, he was focused on the bunny and the crazy woman. But this guy was huge and completely covered in armor! How the hell did Gareth not see him? "A-and you?"

"I am A-uh-Momon! I am Momon, the Adventurer!"

It seems that Gareth's luck didn't change, and it probably won't.

* * *

**(a/n: well? What do you think? Pretty long but this caps off the adventure in the mountain. We got some new mysteries and now Ainz. Hoped you enjoyed this. Leave a review. Until next time, see ya!)**

**(List of References)**

(Chapter title): song by Mastodon

_Game of Thrones_: Name used for one of the Dragon Lord's wives/concubines. Name belonged to Maelys the Monstrous, a Blackfyre. Blackfyre's were bastard children of House Targaryen.

_The Hobbit_: elements of this chapter and previous ones.

_Legion_: The music used by Gareth at the crossroads, using the white conductor's baton. The track from the TV show is called "Fauxlero."


End file.
